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Chapter Text

There are voices everywhere, loud ones drunk on life and soft ones drinking away their sadness. The voices of friends laughing together in groups swirls around and mixes with enthusiastic conversations between coworkers and those just meeting up with others solo. The bar is bustling, absolutely packed as far as Wille can see. He feels himself buzzing as well, happy to have snuck away from his bodyguards for a night alone. He isn’t sure what he wants to do tonight, only knowing that he wants to pretend that he’s a normal twenty one year old boy and not the prince–

“--Heyyyy excuuuseee mee!” The slightly drunk voice of a girl calls out to him as she bumps her shoulder gently into him.

Wille turns to look at her, dreading the look he knows he’s about to see. The look of recognition and awe. The one that everyone gets when they look at him. Well, everyone except his mother. He can’t seem to do anything to make her look at him like she’s pleased. But even so, he positively hates this look. The one where he knows this girl is about to fawn all over him. About to try to act like she knows everything about him, when in fact sometimes it feels like no one knows him at all except his brother Erik. 

“Hey,” Wille mumbles back, remembering that he is supposed to be trying to act like a normal person. Maybe this girl really doesn’t recognize that he is the prince. Maybe he is just getting in his own head too much like he always does. Maybe she just wants to talk to him. Maybe it doesn’t matter to her that he’s part of the Monarchy. All those thoughts come crashing down and drenching him like a wave when the girl yells loudly.

“Fridaaaaa! Oh my gosh LOOK WHO IT IS!! It’s the Prince!”

The girl is drunk and giddy, and her equally drunk friend, Frida he is assuming, runs up to the two of them.

“Oh my gosh can we get a picture?” She asks him, wide eyed.

“Um…” is all Wille can reply before a crowd starts to form around him. 

His brain starts to feel foggy and his fingers begin tingling. With each camera flash pointed at him he can feel his heart rate start to rise. An impending panic attack is rushing up on him, about to spill over and swallow him while, just as he hears-

“-Alright alright everybody back the fuck up!”

Wille whips his head around to see, oh my god, the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen making his way out from behind the bar and towards the crowd. Towards him. Suddenly Wille can’t even remember what the panic attack he’d been about to have was for. It feels like no one is in the room except for him and this magnificent, dark curly haired, beautiful bronze skinned boy who is now standing right infront of him- oh shit- 

“Hello?” The dark haired bartender is asking him in a gentle tone, his voice smooth like silk. “You alright man?”

“Um…” is all Wille can manage once again. Although this time his loss for words is for an entirely different reason. 

“I said are you okay?” The beautiful bartender asks him again, his dark chocolate eyes swirling with genuine concern.

“Oh um, yes,” Wille sputters, trying to settle down how very flustered and embarrassed he is at the moment. 

“Well good,” the bartender replies, a small smirk creeping onto his face. “Because the bar is really busy right now and you’re kinda causing the line to stop moving.”

It isn’t said with any malice, just pure, blunt and honest. Something Wille isn’t used to hearing when people talked to him. And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy the feeling of being spoken to so directly, almost scolded. He feels warm and fuzzy all over his body, and he hasn’t even had any alcohol yet. Odd.  

“Oops, yeah, my apologies um..” Wille looks down at the boy’s name tag. Simon. Simon. “My apologies Simon. I didn’t mean to cause a scene here.”

Wille doesn’t wait for a reply, exiting the bar and heading back home to his lavish apartment, that he positively hates but is grateful he somehow convinced his mother to allow him to live alone in so that he’d be close by to university, as quickly as he came to the bar. 

He makes a point to himself to ignore the way the encounter keeps playing over and over again in his head. The boy, Simon’s, curly dark hair bouncing as he parted easily through the people to get to him. The way his eyes felt so sincere and open that Wille felt like he was both drowning and breathing for the first time. The way Wille feels his heart flutter when he thinks of the adorable little smirk that had passed Simon’s lips. 

No 

No

He stops himself from thinking about that boy any more. He definitely isn’t going back there. He can’t go back there. He shouldn’t go back there…

He is totally going back there.   

Chapter Text

Wilhelm had all but forgotten about his encounter at the bar throughout his next week, being swamped to his breaking point in royal duties. He had been working at the palace almost every day on a new public outreach initiative, meeting with foreigh dignitaries, and other standard work. Due to some recent staffing changes and Erik having to be abroad for a project of his own the next two weeks, Wilhelm was feeling absolutely exhausted. By the end of the week he was spent and when his mother walked in the room to chastise him for chewing on his nails nervously during the last meeting he knew he needed a break.

“You need to stop being so sloppy and unprofessional in front of important members of our court Wilhelm,” his mother says. “And stand up straight. Erik never slouched in the way that you do.”

At the mention of his constant comparison to Erik, Wilhelm feels his frustration fester. 

“And,” his mother has to add, because it seems she always has to push just a little bit too far every time, “he didn’t get caught on video in the middle of a crowd at a bar. Kindly spend this weekend a little differently than last’s hmm?”

So someone had posted a video of him at the bar after all, and his mother knew about it. Of course she did. She knew every move he made, every wrong step he took, and never failed to throw it in his face or compare his long list of shortcomings to Erik’s seemingly non-existent ones. 

“Yes mother,” he responds, before slipping out the door into the cool night air. Still boiling from the constant scrutiny of his family, he welcomes the crisp Friday night air. It feels nice on his skin and he begins to feel like he can breathe again. His bubble is broken by the sound of the footsteps of his bodyguards, pulling him back into reality. 

Wilhelm knows that being a prince is a privilege, but sometimes at times like these he just wishes there was no one observing him for a second. At this moment his mind wanders back to the bar where it felt like no one was watching him except for one pair of gleaming dark eyes, despite the crowd that had existed.

On impulse, he decides he wants that feeling again. He heads back to his apartment, waits until his bodyguards are stationed properly outside the door, then sneaks out the back. All the way to the bar he convinces himself that he is going there just to spite his mother.

She doesn’t want me to do things like this, he thinks, that’s why I’m doing it. And if there was any other reason for his trip, he convinces himself there wasn’t. 

* * *

When he arrives at the bar, it's just as packed as it had been the previous Friday. This time however he’s thought to be more discreet, dressed in a black cap to cover his hair and wearing a far more casual outfit consisting of black converse, ripped loose jeans and his favorite faded red hoodie. 

He squeezes himself through the crowd over to the less busy side of the bar and waits.

‘What can I get for ya?” he hears an unfamiliar voice ask him. Wilhelm decides to ignore the way his chest sinks a little bit in disappointment. He has no idea why that happens, but pushes the feeling aside and orders his drink. 

Looking around, he’s glad that no one seems to have recognized him yet. It’s what he wanted the last time, and what he set out to do this time, so why doesn’t he feel as excited as he thought he would?

He finishes his drink slowly, observing the general public around him in a way he never gets to. He watches as people filter in and out of the bar through the front doors. Wilhelm finishes his drink with one final sip as a slight jealousy flows through him over how freely these people are talking, laughing, and whispering drunk secrets with each other. It’s not that he doesn’t have friends per se, he just doesn’t have many that he would want to share such secrets with. Most people like him for Fun Prince Wilhelm, not for Just Wilhelm. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice someone’s sitting down next to him and sliding a drink over in his direction. 

When the drink hits the knuckles of his left hand he jerks backward and turns to look abruptly at whoever just approached him.

“Woah woah sorry,” the person… Simon, apologizes to him in a soft voice that envelopes him like honey even in the loud bar. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just noticed your drink was empty and you looked a little lost there.”

That beautiful, teasing smirk is back on Simon’s soft lips and the thought flashes through Wilhelm’s mind that he wants to reach out and touch them before he can stop it. 

“Oh it’s fine. Sorry. I was just zoning out,” Wilhelm replies, remembering that he should speak.

Simon chuckles at him and Wille relishes in the sound. The lowlights of the bar shine on Simon's curls, making them look soft. He’s wearing two small silver earrings and a matching silver necklace with a small black heart in the center. Wilhelm follows the path of the necklace downwards toward Simon’s chest that he’s just now realizing he can see a lot of, because the black lace shirt he’s wearing is only buttoned up to just above where the top of his apron ends. 

“My eyes are up here, Your Highness,” Simon says and Wilhelm’s gaze snaps up to meet his eyes. Wilhelm flushes red with embarrassment as he’s met with a beautiful half grin and mischievous glint in Simon’s dark eyes. 

Somehow Wilhelm recovers from the way Simon’s looking at him and manages to say “Wille.”

“What?”

“Oh um just Wille is fine. You really don’t have to call me ‘Your Highness.'”

“Well whatever you say, Wille,” Simon replies, and Wilhelm’s mind goes blank at the way Simon says his name. “I have to get back to work but I just wanted to come over here and say sorry for last week. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to leave the bar last time. It wasn’t your fault for the crowd.”

“That’s okay. Don’t worry. I probably should have known that was going to happen… um I like your necklace,” Wilhelm says, trying desperately to continue this conversation for reasons he doesn’t know.

“Thanks,” Simon replies calmly, leaning against the bar in a way that distractingly makes him look like a model and causes the bottom of his shirt to ride up just a little on one side. 

Wilhelm tries extremely hard to maintain eye contact with Simon and not let his eyes wander down to that point, feeling completely flustered once again. 

“Simon!” calls out a girl’s voice behind the bar, “stop flirting with that guy over there and get back behind the counter. We need you.”

At this insinuation, Wilhelm immediately blushes, dropping his eyes down to the floor before meeting them back with Simon’s. Simon’s cool gaze never wavers however, seeming completely unaffected by the other bartender’s comment. 

Simon speaks first. “Well enjoy your drink,” he says, gesturing to the one he’d slid over to Wilhelm. He begins to turn around to walk back behind the bar. He turns back around briefly to glance at Wilhelm. “It’s on the house, as an apology for last time.”

“You really didn’t have to,” Wilhelm counters.

Simon waves a hand, which causes Wilhelm to notice the deep red nail polish on Simon’s fingers. “I really did. It’s fine anyways, I was hoping you’d show up again, Wille.”

And then just as fast as the conversation had started, it was over and Wille watches as Simon begins serving the people at the bar. 

I was hoping you’d show up again. 

What did that mean? And why can’t he stop thinking about it even as he drifts off to sleep later that night? 

Chapter Text

POV Simon:

“Simon!” calls out a Rosh’s voice behind the bar, “stop flirting with that guy over there and get back behind the counter. We need you.”

At this insinuation, Wilhelm immediately blushes, dropping his eyes down to the floor before meeting them back with Simon’s. Simon tries as hard as humanly possible to maintain the facade of his cool gaze. He needs to get away before Wille can see how much Rosh’s words are affecting him.

Simon speaks first. “Well enjoy your drink,” he says, gesturing to the one he’d slid over to Wilhelm. He begins to turn around to walk back behind the bar. He turns back briefly to glance at Wilhelm. “It’s on the house, as an apology for last time.”

“You really didn’t have to,” Wilhelm counters.

Simon waves a hand, and watches as Wilhelm’s eyes linger on his fingers. His heart beats faster in his chest and he silently wills it to calm down “I really did. It’s fine anyways, I was hoping you’d show up again.”

He walks as swiftly as he can back to the bar, hoping that he doesn’t seem too obvious. He tucks his head down as he feels his own blush creeping over his cheeks, still feeling Wille’s eyes on him. 

“Rosh!” He hisses at her once they’re alone, closing up the bar for the night. “What the heck?!”

“What the heck what?” Rosh asks, putting up the bar stools.

“Why did you yell at me to stop flirting with the Prince of Sweden in front of everyone?”

Rosh just looks at him and laughs, before she notices the look on his face. “Oh my lord. No way! I didn’t think you were actually flirting with him when I said that!” 

“I wasn’t.”

“Simon. I’ve known you since we were seven. And look at you! You’re blushing like a tomato. What. Is. Happening?”

“Okay fine!” Simon blurts out. “It’s not my fault that he looks like that .” 

“Well what did you say to him?”

He buries his face in his hands. “I’m so screwed.”

“Simonnnn,” Rosh says, fighting to keep a grin off her face but failing miserably. “What did you say to him?”

“I maybe kind of told him that I was hoping that he’d show up again?”

“THAT’S MY BOY! Get ‘em Simon.”

“Why are you like this?” Simon asks, removing his hands from his face, unable to keep his smile from matching Rosh’s infectious one. 

“Hey hey!” She says, shoving him before raising her hands in the air innocently. “I’m not the one making moves on the Prince.

“I’m not ‘making moves on the prince.’”

“Well why not?”

“Because he’s the Prince!”

“Well he’s not the Crown Prince.”

"Rosh!"

"Hey, you're the one always going around spouting anti-monarchy shit, I'm just following your teachings." She says, dodging Simon’s attempt to hit her with the dish towel.

Simon shakes his head at her ridiculousness, laughing while putting the shot glasses away.

"Seriously, I may be a lesbian but even I know that you're hot as fuck Simon. You can't score a goal if you don't even try to shoot your shot."

Simon laughs at her soccer experience being what she's using to convince him to admit he likes the Prince.

“I don’t see what’s the problem,” she continues, “you always leave at the end of the night with someone who wants to sleep with you. Just use whatever you say to them on him.”

Simon ducks his head. “Rosh.”

“Simon.” She counters back. “And now all of a sudden Mr. Prince boy shows up and here you are, all finished cleaning up, and you’re still here with me.”

“I like hanging out with you.”

“Not as much as you like going home with tall, and handsome looking men who are all probably major red flags of people.”

Simon glances at her sideways, going for his best unamused expression, hoping she’ll get the message. 

“What? Just cause I like girls doesn’t mean I’m blind. Shouldn’t you be finding one to-”

“-Fine!” says Simon, interrupting her before she can finish that sentence. “I’ll talk to Wille.” 

“Oooh. So he’s Wille to you.”

“Shut up, I hate you.” Simon says, going over to hug her goodbye for the night.

“No you don’t. And get off of me, I hate hugs.”

“No you don’t.”

. 

. 

.

POV Wilhelm

This time rather than being forgotten, Wille’s interaction with Simon is all that is playing in his mind, though he still can’t figure out why. Even as he’s sitting in his apartment two days later doing homework for University, he can’t stop his mind from wandering.

Finally, after seeming to be able to get a grand total of zero document analysis summaries completed for his world history course, he comes to the conclusion that maybe he’s just not spending enough time with friends.

Yes, that’s what it is. He’s simply obsessing over this random boy for no reason because he just enjoyed having such a nice conversation with someone. He scrolls through his contact list thinking of who to call, not being surprised when coming to the same conclusion he always does that he doesn’t like most of his fake friends. 

Sighing, he calls his best friend Felice like he always does. The two of them have known each other for years ever since pre-school when they became inseparable. They’ve completed all their schooling together and are now even attending the same University. Felice had developed a crush on him at some point, or so she thought until she had kissed him and realized that perhaps she was simply seeking her mother’s validation (something Wilhelm could certainly relate to) rather than actually having feelings for him. The two immediately had talked it out soon after, and if anything, that silly moment in time had only brought them closer. 

She answers on the second ring. “Hey Wille! What’s up?” Felice asks him through the phone.

“Hey Felice!” Wille replies, instantly feeling cheerful at hearing her voice. “Not much, just here doing homework. Wanna go out somewhere?”

“Sure! Just for a little. Where do you wanna go?”

“I know this bar that’s pretty close by,” Wilhelm says without thinking, instantly kicking himself for saying that.

“Sounds good! Can I meet you at your place?” Felice asks.

“Yeah. I’ll have the pack of gummy bears I owe you waiting for you.”

“Yes! See this is why I love you Wille. Alright I’m on my way. Bye”

Wille laughs, “yeah yeah. Love you too. See you soon.”

* * *

They’re both a few drinks in and Wille is feeling truly good. Felice is amazing company and he’s currently laughing along at an embarrassing story Felice is recounting to him that had happened to her the other day.

“And you should have seen the look on her face, it was priceless! But I’m sure mine looked equally as hilarious-”

He doesn’t hear the rest of what Felice is saying because he all of a sudden catches sight of Simon entering out of the back room holding drink glasses in his hands. He looks a little tired, but perhaps it is just the low lighting of the bar. He’s dressed in his usual black apron, the same silver earrings, and a simple, well-fitting black short-sleeve T-shirt that shows off lean, muscular, arms complete with a silver bracelet and rings on his hands. 

Suddenly there is a hand tapping on his fingers.

“Hello, earth to Wilhelm,” Felice chuckles. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah, I did.”

“Sure, okay. Because I started speaking in French about two minutes ago to see if you’d notice and you didn’t even flinch.” She laughs, “you okay Wille? You can always talk to me babes.”

“I’m doing great! Seriously, thanks for coming to hang out with me tonight.” Wilhelm hears a sparkling laugh that cuts through his thoughts and his glance slips back to where the beautiful boy is serving a drink to a patron and laughing at something they had said. His perfect, white teeth sparkle and he looks radiant under the low light. Wilhelm stops himself from thinking that he’d like to somehow make the boy laugh like that.

Felice notices his gaze shift and follows his sightline straight to Simon.

“Ohh,” she says, turning back to him with a teasing look written all over her face. “So that’s what has you so distracted this evening. He’s cute.”

Wilhelm jolts, “what? Who’s cute?”

Felice rolls her eyes and smiles at him, kicking her foot into his gently. “The bartender you’ve been staring at like this whole time.”

“I haven’t been staring,” Wilhelm replies.

“Sure. Whatever you say Wille… you should go talk to him.”

“I have,” he says before thinking.

Felice’s whole face lights up. “Oh my gosh that’s great! When?”

“The last time I was here.”

“Is that why you wanted us to come here? To see your crush? This is so fun, Wille you should have told me!”

‘It’s not a crush,” Wilhelm answers, his eyes slipping back to Simon. At that moment Simon turns around and their eyes meet. Wille holds his breath for a moment in embarrassment of being caught. He can feel his cheeks redden and then Simon honest to god winks at him, before turning back around to continue working. 

At that, Wille almost falls off his bar stool. His eyes snap back to Felice’s, his cheeks still flushed red.

“Yeah,” says Felice, propping up her head on her hand and observing him. “Not a crush my ass.” 

Wilhelm throws his head back and groans at how easy it is for his friend to see right through him. But it’s not a crush… is it? He’s never liked boys before. He doesn’t like boys. I mean sure, he’s seen guys at parties before and thought some things but surely that was just the alcohol. Right? So many thoughts are buzzing around in his head, the many shots him and Felice have taken tonight making them even fuzzier. 

Felice notices him starting to panic and lays a hand on top of his. She leans toward him and the pressure of her hand and her presence starts to calm Wilhelm down.

“Wille?” she starts tentatively, as if she doesn’t want to scare him off. And frankly right now he doesn’t even know why he’s so scared. “You know it’s okay if you like him right?”

And no. Wilhelm doesn’t know if it is alright to like Simon. Because he shouldn’t like him. Because he doesn’t like him. Or maybe he does. He doesn’t know, but he nods yes anyway.

“Okay, good,” Felice continues, “I was just teasing you before. But seriously, it’s really really cool if you like him.”

“I don’t know,” says Wille, almost defeated. 

“You know it’s okay to like boys right Wilhelm? I’ll always love you no matter who you love.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“You don’t think you’re what? Gay?” Felice asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I like Simon. I’ve never liked a boy before, how am I supposed to know? Maybe I just want to be friends with him.”

“Wille,” Felice says in a warm, inviting, and slightly teasing tone. “That’s great if you want to be friends with him. But I have never seen someone who wants someone else to be their bestie look at them like that. ”

That gets a slight chuckle out of Wilhelm, so Felice continues on. “And plus Wille, you don’t have to be just gay to like boys. You could be bisexual, or unlabelled, or whatever you want it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s cute as fuck and if you don’t make your move on him I will.”

Realizing how much Felice is goading him, Wilhelm pretends to be unbothered by Felice’s statement. “Okay,” he says, aiming for a casual shrug, “go for it… Plus he’s probably not even gay so-”

“Wille you absolute walnut! ” Felice says laughing, “he literally has a pride pin on his apron!”

And oh. 

Wilhelm somehow hadn’t noticed that before. When he remains silent Felice says, “Seriously? You really didn’t see that? I guess you were too busy admiring other parts of him then.”

Wille’s mouth falls open at that and Felice stands up abruptly. “This has been the most fun but unfortunately I have a choir dress rehearsal performance for the show early tomorrow morning so I’m going to have to head back to my dorm now.”

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Wille asks, suddenly remembering how much alcohol they both have in their systems. 

“I’m way too drunk for that.” Felice giggles back, “I texted Madison, she was out nearby and she’s gonna pick me up.” 

“Okay. Thanks Felice.”

“No, thank you. Tonight was fun. And I’m proud of you,” Felice says, leaning in close to his ear and squeezing his arm. “And Wille, you can do this. Just go talk to him.”

Felice heads out and when Wille finally gathers the courage to look up and search for Simon, he’s gone.

Chapter Text

Simon feels like he’s going to fall asleep while pouring someone’s drink tonight. It had been an extremely long day. Simon’s university professor had chosen to let them out of class early, and he decided to use that time to go visit his father like he’d started doing recently. He knows that he’d made a pact with Sara never to interact with him again, but that pact was made a long time ago and after their mom passed away almost a year ago now, he’d just been feeling very alone.

* * *

His mama was everything to him. His light, his strength, his hope, and his protection throughout everything that had happened. She’d done everything for him and Sara and he’d tried to do everything he could for her in return. When he was younger, around when he just turned 14, he’d started trying to learn how to make dinner so his mama wouldn’t have to when she got back from a late-night shift at the hospital. She’d always tell him how wonderful of a boy he was, and that he didn’t have to do that for her, that it was her job to take care of him, but he always said that he wanted to. And that was the truth. He liked helping people, liked wearing his heart on his sleeve, until he realized that leaving your heart out in the open only makes it a target for people to break. 

It was around that same time when everything started to change. His mama had to start working more and more shifts and somehow it felt like they had less and less money. He didn’t understand at the time where all the money was going, but he did notice how his father started coming home later and later. How his breath smelled different. How his eyes looked different. How sometimes he’d be at home on the couch sleeping instead of at work when Simon got home from school. Simon was innocent enough at the time to just think that his father was sick, this hypothesis supported by how often his father would vomit. It became a habit of Simon’s to roll his father onto his side when he saw him passed out like that just in case. 

Sara was a year older than him and a year ahead in school and she figured it out first. The people she thought were her friends would go to parties and she didn’t know that the booze was being supplied by her Dad. When she overheard someone talking about it at one party, she immediately went home and told Simon. 

That’s when all the pieces fell into place. The two Eriksson siblings were forced to grow up too fast. Forced to figure out what booze was and what it could do too soon. Forced to learn about that strange white powder they’d sometimes find. Forced to know how to call 112 when their father was passed out and not waking up. 

Some days would be good though. Some days his Papa would be his old self. Would take them to the movies, to go get ice cream, teach Simon how to play piano. That’s where he discovered his love of music. How simple notes could transform your world and your mind. He was discovering many more things at this age of 14. That he wanted to be a singer when he grew up, that people were bullying Sara at school, that his Dad would sometimes yell at him with his red-rimmed eyes then apologize later, that his friend Rosh was way better at football than him but that he was better at singing, that he liked kissing boys.

Simon had never really come to the realization that he was gay, he’d just always sort of known. It was just a part of who he was and he didn’t mind. Though everyone often seemed tired and his Papa’s episodes had become more frequent and more aggressive, there were still good nights to be found.

On a Friday when he got home from school, his Dad wasn’t at home drunk or yelling at Simon for once, and in fact came home from work at the correct hour. The two of them hung out for a while, jamming on the keyboard and singing before Simon decided that tonight was his opportunity and he didn’t know how long it would be until he got another one. 

He asked his mama to invite his friends Rosh and Ayub over for dinner and of course, she agreed. When they were all around half way done with their spaghetti, (Simon and his Dad having ketchup on theirs to everyone’s disgust), Simon simply announced that he liked boys and not girls. His mama immediately got up to hug him, telling him that she loved him and that she was happy he told them, and his father did the same. Ayub punched him lightly in the shoulder and asked who he liked at school, Sara smiled and said she already knew, and Rosh high fived him and said “me too, but in the other direction,” to which all the festivities were repeated but this time for Rosh. They all hung out that night, playing board games and having fun. It’s one of the last times Simon remembers being with his whole family together and happy. 

It was shortly after that his father got worse. He started drinking more, using other substances more, yelling more. More at his mom, at his sister, and at him. Simon couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault. Maybe he shouldn’t have come out. Maybe he should have just not told his Dad. On what he thought was one of his papa’s good days, he even asked him this, not realizing how high his Dad actually was at the time. His father assured him it had nothing to do with Simon or who he loved, that sometimes he wasn’t well and that he needed his medicine for that. Simon, hating how dumb his father thought he was to believe his lies about his “prescription medicine” asked if his doctors prescribed him all the alcohol as well.

It was only then that Simon had realized how completely out of it his Dad was, as he was shoved against the wall.

“Don’t question me and my life,” his father had yelled at him, pushing him roughly against the wall before starting to get tears in his eyes and attempting to paw at Simon’s face. Simon desperately shoved his hands away. His father had backed up then with misty eyes and said, “I’m sorry Simon. I’m sorry. Don’t end up like me Simon. Don’t start using.”

That was the first time he had felt afraid of his Dad, but it wasn’t the last. He felt afraid every time after when he tried to attack Simon. Felt afraid even more when he yelled at Sara, when he hit his Mama as she tried to protect her children.

Three days after his sixteenth birthday he came home from school to hear quiet sniffles coming from the bedroom. He raced into the room, assuming Micke had done something to her, but the two of them sat side by side on the bed, his Mama crying into his shoulder. 

Simon demanded to know what had happened and that was when they told him about his Mama’s diagnosis. It was like he was frozen and had to run away all at once. Like darkness was enveloping him so quickly that he couldn’t see or hear. Funny how his Papa was the one who drank and did all his drugs, but his Mama was the one who got sick. That his Mama spent all her days treating patients in the hospital only to have to go there for chemotherapy herself.

As his Mama got worse, so did his father. Micke didn’t hit her anymore, but the weight of her sickness led his father to the hospital for overdoses more times than Simon could count. 

Simon made dinner more often, Sara decided to change schools, Simon decided to go with her, Sara told him off for always feeling the need to protect everyone, Sara taught him how to cover his bruises with concealer. He was drowning in his mom’s never-ending love, her continuing to work even through her treatment so the three of them could save enough money. Drowning in yelling, in booze, in tears, in hope. 

His hope paid off when at seventeen years old Simon, his mama and his sister were able to move out on their own into a small house in Bjärstad. His hope gained traction when his Mama was pronounced cancer free. And his hope shattered three years later when her cancer returned, and she passed away. He barely remembers anything from that day, just that he and Sara were doing homework in the university library when he got a call from Micke. He hadn’t heard from him since they had left years ago and almost hadn’t answered the call. For some reason he had anyway and that was who told him the news, Micke still being his mama’s emergency hospital contact after all this time. 

Despite being twenty-one now, every child needs a parent, and Simon was craving one. Sara and him were so close to each other, but that kind of love isn’t the same. A month ago he reached out to Micke, who had sounded sober over the phone. He went to visit his father and they talked about so many things. It had been healing for Simon and he’d decided to go back. Today was the third time he’s visited Micke, and he supposes Micke deemed that enough visits to start asking about Sara. When Simon dodged the questions, Micke must have texted Sara after he left because earlier today Sara was waiting for him outside his dorm room when he got back, holding her phone out to him to read, being so betrayed and hurt that Simon had gone to see him that she left them both sitting on the floor in tears. 

* * *

The thoughts are all rushing back to him now as he takes another patron’s order and pours their beer. As he slides it across the counter he feels someone’s eyes on him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Wille looking at him from across the bar. He feels a flush creeping across his cheeks and turns away, going to serve a different customer that is deliberately far away from Wilhelm. When he turns back around he sees Wilhelm’s eyes on him still and continues to pretend not to notice. 

“He’s been watching you all night you know,” Rosh’s voice comes from behind him, quietly enough for only him to hear.

“I know”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well isn’t it obvious that he’s clearly also interested?”

“I don’t know”

“You’re a moron,” she says smiling, abruptly having to end their conversation to go refill a drink.

Simon goes on working, pretending to be listening to and laughing at something someone seated at the bar has said, when in reality his smile is at Rosh’s suspicions that maybe Wille really does like him back.

The next time Simon turns around to look at Wilhelm, their eyes meet and he can’t help himself from testing Rosh’s theory by sending a little wink his way before returning back to work as if nothing has happened. 

Is he blushing? Simon can’t tell. Wille’s too far away and the lighting of the bar is too dim. It’s just bright enough however that Simon doesn’t miss Wille nearly falling off his stool. 

Simon can’t help but smile to himself at Wille’s adorable flusteredness. Okay, maybe he really does like me back.

The bar starts to get busier and Simon doesn’t have any more time to look over at Wille. He can’t even count the number of people that he’s spoken to, served, and said goodbye to. 

After what seems like an eternity, Simon finally looks over again at Wille just in time to see the dark haired girl he was talking to lean in, whisper something in his ear and squeeze Wille’s arm. 

Stupid stupid stupid idiot , is all Simon can think. He was probably here on a date with that girl you idiot. He was talking to her and laughing with her all night. And you winked at him like an embarrassing moron. That’s probably why he was blushing. Because you were embarrassing him on his date. You flirted with the Prince of Sweden on his date.

Simon feels so stupid that he can’t even stand to be in the same room as Wilhelm for another second. He tells Rosh that he’ll be right back and disappears into the storage room. 

He doesn’t wait long enough to hear Rosh ask him what’s wrong or to see Wilhelm’s eyes searching all over the bar for him.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

Wilhelm’s eyes search all over the bar for Simon before he concludes that the dark haired boy is nowhere to be found. Alone with his thoughts with no one and nothing but alcohol to distract him, Wille orders another drink. “Something strong,” he asks for.

As he downs one glass after another, he finally can’t stop himself from thinking about Felice’s words from a few minutes ago. 

Wille, you don’t have to be just gay to like boys. You could be bisexual, or unlabeled.

Is he gay? Does he like boys? He likes Simon. He knows he likes Simon. Even as he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t. How could he not? With his olive skin and toned muscles, his beautiful curly hair and nose that scrunches up just a little when he laughs, with his dark lace shirts, his necklace, his rings, painted nails, his smile that makes Wille’s heart flutter, and his twinkling eyes that are so dark you could get lost in them. 

But what does that mean? For him, for the monarchy, for his family?  Surely his mother will be upset about this. A prince can’t like boys. He can’t like boys. And what does being unlabeled even mean? If he has to come out to a country wouldn’t he need a label? As soon as he starts imagining standing in front of someone from the press, announcing that he is once again disappointing the monarchy, he feels sick under the weight of the panic bubbling up inside him.

If there’s one thing he knows it’s that he can’t have a panic attack in front of everyone in this bar. It will call too much attention and despite his disguise people will figure out who he is. He walks as swiftly as he can without causing a scene into the- thank the lord maybe there is a god- blessedly empty bathroom. 

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Simon’s POV

When the rush hour of the bar calms down enough for Rosh to head into the back room for a moment, she sees the usually calm, suave, and confident Simon nervously pacing back and forth with his apron thrown over a supply case.

“Simon, are you okay?” he hears her ask, interrupting his non-stop thoughts that have been shelling him like bombs this whole time. 

He looks up, immediately masking his distressed expression and posture into one of absolute calm like he’s had to do his whole life before answering, “Yes. Absolutely! Sorry I just had to take a phone call.”

He makes for the door so he won’t have to answer any follow up questions but Rosh is faster. She steps in front of the door, placing an arm up against it, purposely blocking his path. 

Simon sighs, “let me go Rosh.”

“Okay, listen,” she says, voice bold and straight to the point as always, but with her ever-present undertone of care and affection. “You like him. And- shut the fuck up don’t interrupt me- he likes you.”

Simon opens his mouth, about to tell Rosh how wrong her assumptions are. That Wille was actually on a date with some girl and that he had made an absolute fool of himself, but she simply holds up a hand and he instantly closes his mouth.

“Now, I can listen to what you have to say after, but what I do know is that your Prince has been sitting at the bar alone the entire time you’ve been in here, and he’s looking like a lost puppy who is downing copious amounts of alcohol. And I was gonna wait and let you figure your shit out on your own but he looked like he was seriously freaking out all of a sudden and just like ran into the bathroom? And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that so I’m thinking this is a you problem.”

Simon’s feet are already heading for the door of the room before he can even register that he’s moving. He sees Rosh take her hand off the door and move out of his way to let him pass, as well as her smug look like she knew this is exactly how Simon would react. 

As he reaches the bathroom door he hesitates for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside. His eyes immediately focus on the only other person in the room, Wille, leaning over the sink with both arms pressed against it, palms white and breathing erratically. 

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Wilhelm’s POV

He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe. Air isn’t getting into his lungs and his head feels fuzzy. His legs are struggling to support his weight and he leans harder into the sink. He thinks he hears someone calling his name but maybe it’s in his head. He hears it a few more times, slowly getting louder and closer to him. He turns to see an angel standing right in front of him. No, it’s Simon standing in front of him . Is it Simon? His brain is too muddled from everything he’s drunk tonight to be sure. He shakes his head trying to shake his thoughts back in order and stop this hallucination. 

The hallucination turns out to be indeed not a hallucination at all as he feels a hand tentatively lay over his that’s clinging into the sink counter. His hand, pale and cold, and the other, darker and warm. 

“Wille,” he hears the familiar voice as soft and sweet as honey say, “you need to breathe.” 

He tries and tries and tries but he can’t. He must have said this out loud because Simon says back to him calmly and confidently, “yes you can. Just copy me, okay? In… out. Good. Again.”

The two boys breathe together for several minutes before Wille’s breathing returns to him, and he feels air entering in and out of his lungs at a steady rate. His blurry vision comes back to him as well, and his alcohol-drowned-brain unhelpfully informs him that this is the closest he’s been to Simon well, ever. 

Wille knows he shouldn’t stare at Simon, but the liquor has made him too drunk to care as he takes in everything that is this beautiful boy in front of him. He realizes for the first time that Simon’s eyes are lightly lined with effortlessly smudged eyeliner, which makes his gaze on Wilhelm look so intense that he has to look away. This proves to be unhelpful as his eyes are now resting on Simon’s bicep that is flexed slightly by the way he’s supporting his weight on the sink counter. 

“Wille?” he hears again.

“Mm? Yes?” Wilhelm responds, forcing his eyes back up to Simon’s dark, worried ones. There’s a crease of worry between his eyebrows and it takes all of Wille’s power to restrain himself from reaching out with his thumb to smooth it away. 

“Are you okay?”

“Oh yes I’m fine-” Wilhelm doesn’t even get the full sentence out before he throws up right in Simon’s direction. 

He hears Simon yelp slightly and jump backwards, but not quickly enough. Somehow, Wilhelm managed to get most of it into the sink, but there’s enough of it on Simon’s shirt. 

“I’m so sorry!” Wilhelm blurts out, not knowing what else to do as he starts grabbing paper towels.

“It’s okay.”

“No! It’s not!” Wilhelm can feel himself losing control of his emotions again as tears well up in his eyes but he refuses to let them fall. 

“Wille, I swear it’s okay don’t worry about it,” Simon replies, and then more softly, “I’m used to having drunk people throwing up on me.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Simon answers, looking almost like he just said something he shouldn’t have while dabbing at his shirt with Wille’s paper towels.

“I can’t believe I ruined your shirt. I’m so sorry Simon. It’s such a nice shirt.” For some reason he can’t seem to shut up.

Simon turns to look at Wille and actually laughs at him? “It’s really not. It’s just a black T-shirt that comes in a pack of five Wille, it’s okay.”

“No, no, the shirt’s not nice- well the shirt is nice- it’s a nice shirt- it’s more you look nice- under the shirt- but also the shirt on top- all of it is… good?”

He abruptly closes his mouth in confusion at what he is even saying and watches Simon’s expression change into something he can’t quite decipher before it disappears. 

Simon’s eyes search him intently in silence for a moment and Wilhelm doesn’t quite know what to do, but his eyes flick downward to Simon’s lips before returning to Simon’s eyes. 

Wille’s not sure if Simon notices this, as he seems to stay his usual calm and unbothered self. Wilhelm wonders if Simon’s always like this. Always calm, always charming, always cool and unbothered, always so elegant.

Simon breaks their silence by asking “how are you getting home, Wille?”

“I was gonna walk home,” he slurs.

“How far away?”

“Ummmmm….” he isn’t quite sure. He’s sure he knows where he lives but he can’t quite grasp that information quickly. Simon’s piercing gaze remains on him until he finally remembers, “not that far. A couple blocks away.”

Suddenly the feeling of Simon’s presence and eyes on him becomes overwhelming and he decides he should try and head home. When he takes his hands off the counter however, his balance fails him and he leans sideways a bit too far before something, someone pushes him back upright, holding him there by the shoulders.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Simon says, and Wille isn’t sure if he says it to himself or to him. Suddenly, Wille realizes that Simon is basically holding him upright and this for sure is the closest they’ve ever been. He should be panicking from their close proximity but he feels nothing but tranquil as the soft scent of Simon hovers around him. Simon’s looking at him intently again with his dark eyeliner, and Wilhelm feels a blush creep over his face. “You can’t walk home, Wille.”

“Why not?”

“Why not ?” Simon replies calmly, smirking and shaking his head like it should be obvious.

It’s not obvious and it’s making Wilhelm annoyed. “Yeah, why not? Everyone’s always telling me what I can and can’t do.” At that, Wille see’s Simon’s gaze soften and oh, Wille really likes being looked at like that.

Simon lets out a little air in a sigh that wouldn’t have been noticeable if not for how close the two of them are to each other right now. “Because you can’t stand up Wille, and you just threw up, and I’m worried you won’t make it home safe if you walk.”

This is definitely the longest conversation he’s ever had with Simon and the most emotion he’s ever seen from Simon, and he’s feeling a little dizzy from the knowledge that this emotion is for him. 

“You are the Prince right?” Simon asks, and Wille’s shoulders sag at the reminder. “Can you not call someone to come pick you up?”

“If I call someone they’ll know I snuck out.”

“Who’ll know?”

“My bodyguards. And then they’ll be upset. And they’ll have to notify the Queen and then everyone will be upset with me. And she’s already upset with me because I already messed up, and-” He doesn’t notice he’s started crying until a gentle fingertip brushes a tear off his cheek. 

“Okay, okay,” Simon says softly, bringing the hand he used to wipe Wille’s tears back onto his shoulder. “You can’t get a ride home, I understand. Listen, the bar closes in about 30 minutes and then I have to clean up and then I can walk you home. Does that work for you?”

Wilhelm can only nod, thoughts too preoccupied by replaying the feeling of Simon’s hand on his face to form words.

“Good,” Simon says and leads Wille out of the bathroom and to a seat at the bar. He watches as Simon leaves him for a moment and exchanges a pointed look with a dark-haired female bartender, before placing a glass of water in front of him. “Drink this, and wait here.” And who is Wilhelm to refuse anything this enchanting boy asks? So he reaches for the glass, fingers brushing with Simon’s for a fleeting moment which sends a shiver down his spine. 

He watches as Simon finishes working, this time not bothering to hide his staring. Eventually all the people filter out for the night and Simon and the female bartender, who’s name he’s overheard is Rosh, begin putting up the stools and wiping down the counter. 

Wille sits there in silence, trying not to fall off the stool and embarrass himself further. His conversation with Simon is replaying over and over in his mind, and he can’t help but wonder about something Simon said.

“Do you usually get thrown up on a lot working here?” Wilhelm asks.

“What?” Both Rosh and Simon ask in unison.

“You said you’re used to drunk people throwing up on you.”

Despite the amount of alcohol in his system, Wilhelm doesn’t miss the way Simon’s usual confident and handsome expression falls slightly or the way Rosh grimaces a little. “Oh. No, not usually,” Simon replies. 

“Then what do you mean?” Asks Wille, too inebriated to read the room and pick on the fact that he shouldn’t keep asking.

“It’s a long story,” Simon answers, continuing to wash the cocktail glasses without looking up at him. 

Realizing Simon’s not going to say more, Wille goes back to sitting in silence and sipping his water. Finally, Rosh and Simon are finished and Simon says bye to Rosh who says something to Simon that he can’t hear before walking over to Wille. “Come on.”

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Simon’s POV

As they step out into the cool night air, Wille’s still staggering a bit so Simon reaches out a hand to steady him. He sees a blush make its way onto Wille’s cheeks as their fingers intertwine and he’s never been so confused. 

He decides to ignore it and instead asks Wilhelm’s exact address, to which Wilhelm replies, “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that.”

“Okay? I need to get you home though.” 

Wilhelm, clearly not understanding what Simon is saying simply repeats the same thing again, like all he can remember right now in his current state is something that his bodyguards or whoever probably told him before. Simon can feel himself starting to get annoyed with just how drunk off his ass Wilhelm is and takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He feels Wilhelm stop walking next to him and squeeze his hand, looking at Simon so earnestly it breaks his heart a little. He’s seen that earnest, apologetic look in someone’s eyes too many times before, and he feels whatever part of his heart he still has left after all these years fracture just a little bit more.

“Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad,” Wilhelm whispers at him.

Simon sighs and shakes his head, not knowing if he’s mad or not.

“I don’t want you to be mad. Please Simon, I like you too much. I don't want you to be mad at me.”

Simon freezes at these words, not knowing if he just heard Wille right. Does he know what he just said? Is it true? Or is it because he’s too intoxicated to even know what he’s saying? Simon knows all too well that people can say all sorts of things they don’t mean when they’re on substances. 

“Wilhelm.” Simon states, and Wille’s breathing startles at Simon’s use of his full name. “I’m gonna ask you this one more time before I really am mad at you. What is your address?”

Something about the forcefulness of his statement finally seems to click something into place in Wille’s brain because he finally gives Simon the location of his apartment. After what feels like an eternity, the two boys finally make it to Wille’s apartment and up the stairs, Simon having to nearly drag Wille almost the whole way. Wille fumbles with the lock and lets them inside. 

Wille’s apartment is nothing like he thought a prince’s apartment would be. If a prince indeed lived in an apartment at all. Despite the large size of the apartment however, it isn’t fancy at all. It is clear that Wilhelm had tried to decorate the place himself and Simon can’t help but feel a little enamored by it. 

Wilhelm, still gripping Simon’s hand, leads them toward the bedroom, and Simon, not knowing if he would even be able to free his hand from Wille’s if he tried, follows him. Wille sits on the bed and tugs Simon down next to him. 

They sit in silence for a moment as Simon laughs internally at the situation he is in and the day he’s had. He’d visited Micke for the third time after such a long time apart, was chastised by and cried with his sister, had gone to class, worked all night at the bar, and is now sitting on the Prince of Sweden’s bed, in the Prince of Sweden’s room. Sure he’d imagined being in bed with Wilhelm before, sue him for being a 21 year old boy, but not like this. 

He notices Wille leaning against his shoulder now, nearly asleep, and he can’t help but smile to himself at how peaceful the Prince finally looks. He of course has to go and ruin the peace just like he ruins everything by saying, “Wilhelm, I have to go to class tomorrow, I should go back to my dorm.”

Wilhelm opens his eyes and blinks up at Simon. “Where’s your dorm?” Wilhelm asks.

“Hillerska University.”

Wille’s head lifts off of his shoulder then and Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the feeling. He just looks at Simon though without speaking, so Simon begins to stand up. “Wait wait wait,” Wille says, so Simon pauses. “I go there too,” Wille slurs, voice slick with alcohol and the need for sleep. And damn it if Simon doesn’t need sleep as well. “It’s too late for you to go home. I can drive you to Uni in the morning.”

At this declaration, Wille lays down again, like he is exhausted for simply saying that. He shuffles over to the side of his bed, leaving a spot open next to him. And sue Simon for being a 21 year old boy again, because he doesn’t have the will power to deny the Prince’s offer. He slowly lays down next to Wilhelm, facing away from him, and Wille shuffles ever so slightly toward Simon’s back, closing the space between them just enough so they’re still not touching but enough that he can feel Wille’s breath on the back of his neck.

Truth be told, Simon doesn’t know how he ended up in this position, laying in bed next to the boy he hopelessly likes so much, or how he successfully made it through another one of those days that feels like a lifetime. All he knows is that it’s the first time in a long time that he’s slept through the entire night without nightmares plaguing his dreams. 

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

He wakes up the next morning due to something too bright piercing through his skull. His head does a thud and he shuts his eyes quickly. The light cascading through his window is still way too bright as he tries to open his eyes again. With his eyes closed he notices an unfamiliar scent fill his nose. Surely that scent of coconut and citrus isn’t something that’s usually in his bedroom? Then everything comes back to him in an instant and he realizes that is the scent of Simon. Simon, who had brought him home last night. Simon, who had made sure he went to bed. And Simon who, oh shit, who he confessed his feelings for. And Simon, who he had basically made sleep with him- no not like that, get those thoughts out of your head- in his bed with him. 

It’s only now that he realizes that said bed is empty apart from himself, and he looks around frantically all of a sudden searching for Simon. Simon’s nowhere to be found, but Wille’s eyes land on a glass filled with water on his nightstand that he doesn’t think he remembers putting there. He reaches an arm out from below his sheets and picks up the glass, revealing a sticky note placed under it. 

In messy scrawled handwriting he reads, “Hey, hope you’re feeling better. You should drink some water. Sorry for not saying bye, I had an 8 am class and you just looked like you could use the rest.

Wille feels his heart do a little butterfly drop into his stomach and he rereads the note several more times. He turns to read it one more time and the light from his window hits the note more directly, making the paper see through. He realizes there’s something written on the back and flips it over as quickly as possible, dropping it out of his hands and onto the bed. He grabs it once again and sees a phone number written on the back. Simon’s phone number. 

He immediately grabs his own phone and saves Simon as a contact in it. It’s only then that he remembers to check the time on his phone and realizes he only has a half hour before class starts. As he steps into the car to be driven to campus, his brain finally reminds him of his promise to Simon last night to drive him to class. Shit, Simon must have walked to campus after all. His guilt overweighs his overthinking and he pulls out his phone to text Simon.

* * *

Hey, It’s Wille! I feel bad for not 

waking up in time to drive you

At last the prince has risen from

his slumber after all

:(

Just Wille is fine.

Okay, how is Just Wille feeling?

Good, thanks for saving me. I still

owe you a ride though. 

Do you need a ride home?

lol I live on campus remember? Or 

you probably don’t actually

Oh shit right.

so you don’t remember anything then

* * *

Panicking about where the conversation is headed as he remembers what he’d said to Simon ( Please Simon, I like you too much .), Wille panics and types his reply quickly, regretting the lie as soon as he sends it.

* * *

Not much

what do you remember?

Just sitting at the bar, and then throwing

up on you (sry) and then basically forcing

you to stay at my apartment (also sry)

It’s fine… so you’re sure that’s

all you remember?

I’m sure

* * * 

Wilhem watches as the three dots that indicate Simon is typing appear and disappear over and over again.

* * *

Simon?

okay.

Now I feel bad for not remembering

and not giving you a ride. When do

you get done with class?

12:00, why?

I have a break between classes then,

can I buy you lunch as a thank you?

A thank you for saving your ass?

or an I’m sorry for puking on you?

Both?

Okay, I accept

Great. I’ll meet you then.

Outside the library?

Sounds good, Just Wilhelm

I take back my lunch offer

Uh uh Just Wilhelm, you owe it to me

and my $5 shirt you ruined.

Fine <3.

* * *

Wilhelm sends the heart without thinking. His fingers seem to have had a mind of their own. He grips his phone tightly in his hands as he walks to the classroom, willing the message not to send. Wilhelm’s panic only lasts a moment however before his phone buzzes with a message from Simon.

* * *

<3  

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Simon’s POV

The entire time Simon’s in class, he can’t focus on what’s being written on the board, only the text he’d just received from Wilhelm.

Did he mean to send the heart? Does he really remember more than he’s saying from last night? Wait shit, isn’t he dating that girl?

Simon doesn’t know and he hates feeling so insecure over this whole situation. Normally he knows what he likes, what he wants, and most importantly how to get it. But Wilhelm is a puzzle to him. A beautiful puzzle that he just doesn’t know how to solve quite yet.

Finally his class ends and he heads toward the library. He sees Wilhelm sitting on the library steps waiting for him, and hearing Simon coming looks up and smiles. 

“Hey,” Wilhelm says to him, smiling softly and looking far better than last night. His golden hair flops into his eyes and he watches as Wilhelm tucks it behind his ear before it immediately falls back into his face. Wilhelm pushes it back again and it falls forward once again. It’s adorable. No, no. It’s not adorable. You need to stop thinking of him like that, he’s dating someone else. 

He can’t help but notice Wilhelm basically staring at him though, and also can’t resist teasing this boy. It’s just too easy.

“Wilhelm, are you going to just stare at me all day long or take me to this lunch? Because I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

He can’t help but laugh as Wille’s entire face and neck flush red before turning to lead the way to a restaurant off campus.

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Wilhelm’s POV

“Wilhelm, are you going to just stare at me all day long or take me to this lunch? Because I don’t know about you but I’m hungry,” he hears Simon say to him, before abruptly turning around to hide his blush which apparently is unsuccessful because he hears Simon laugh at him.

And you know what? How could he be expected to not stare at him? He realizes now that he’s only ever seen Simon in black clothing that goes under his apron at the bar. Now he’s wearing black converse, ripped denim jeans that Wilhelm would certainly be distracted by if he wasn’t so distracted by the red, slight crop top that Simon’s wearing, complete with a chain necklace and his usual rings and earrings. Simon in a crop top is going to be Wilhelm’s death, he's sure of it. 

He’s still so focused on not staring at the patch of smooth, tanned skin between where Simon’s shirt ends and where his jeans begin that he just now realizes Simon looking at him intently as they walk side by side. He turns to look at Simon, but instead of looking away and pretending that he wasn’t looking, Simon leaves his gaze staring into Wilhelm’s for a moment before pointedly flicking up and down his body once before returning to his eyes. 

It takes all of his willpower not to shudder at Simon looking at him like this. Simon seems to take pity on him because he stops staring at Wilhelm and asks “you didn’t say where we’re going.”

“Oh um it’s this Venezualen place I’ve never been to but I’ve been told is really good by one of my friends.”

He steals a glance over at Simon as they walk and sees a soft smile spread across Simon’s face. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“What?” Wille asks, wanting to know what it is that’s brought this adorable expression over the usually strong and chiseled features of Simon’s face.

“Nothing,” Simon begins, “just I’m actually Venezualen.”

“Oh! I didn’t plan this on purpose I swear!”

Simon laughs and Wille relishes in the fact that Simon’s laughing because of him. “I know Wille, literally how would you have known that?”

It’s at that statement that Wille realizes he barely knows anything about Simon. And suddenly, he wants to know every little detail there is to know. 

“True, I really don’t know much about you,” Wilhelm responds. “Tell me about yourself,” he says before he can regret it.

“Why?” Simon asks, and Wille isn’t sure what he expected Simon’s response to be but it wasn’t that. He nervously plays with his fingers before answering.

“I don’t know, just curious.”

They arrive at the restaurant then, and there’s a large line to get in. Upon seeing the Prince arrive however, a hostess walks up to him and says “right this way your highness.”

“Oh um no it’s okay,” Wilhelm says embarrassed, as he feels Simon watching this interaction. “I don’t mind waiting in line.” He turns back to Simon and mumbles “sorry.”

Simon just shrugs at him, which lifts the hem of his shirt up just a little and says “it’s fine.” 

Finally they are seated at a table. Wille opens the menu and instantly curses himself for taking French lessons all his years of school and curses Felice for not telling him the menu was all in Spanish. He looks at the menu for a moment, as if staring at the letters will somehow make them make sense before looking up at Simon, who instead of looking at his own menu is just leaning his chin on his palm and looking at Wilhelm in the most adorable way.

A smirk creeps over Simon’s face and his eyes shine in a way that Wilhelm has come to realize only means Simon’s about to say something that will make Wilhelm’s cheeks go red.

 “Are you pretending to read the menu?” Simon asks, failing to hide his smile.

Wilhelm sighs, laughing, “maybe.” Simon laughs as well and it’s like time slows down just for a moment. “Wait, aren’t you?”

Simon rolls his eyes at Wilhelm, and he feels like he’s going to fall out of his chair. “Did I or did I not just tell you I was Venezualen.”

“Well you said that, but I didn’t know you could-”. His sentence is interrupted by the waitress coming over to take their order. Simon greets the waitress in Spanish, striking up a conversation that Wille can’t understand but oh, Simon speaking Spanish could fuel his daydreams for months. The waitress laughs at whatever Simon has just said and Wilhelm wonders how Simon has this ability to charm absolutely everyone he meets in two seconds. He’s so mesmerized by Simon that he doesn’t realize both Simon and the waitress looking at him now, waiting for him to place his order.

“Oh um. I’ll have the same as him. Thank you.”

The waitress leaves and Simon bursts into laughter, “very smooth,” he says and Wilhelm puts his face into his hands. 

“I am never forgiving Felice for getting me into this situation.” After that sentence, Simon’s smile drops just a little and Wille can’t figure out what he’s done to cause this.

Simon leans back against his chair and slips one of his rings off his finger, playing with between his hands. “Who’s Felice?” he asks.

“My best friend!” Wilhelm answers, worry about what he said to upset Simon nearly gone by the comfort talking about Felice brings him. “We’ve known each other since we were in pre-school.”

Simon nods, listening. “That’s nice. So is she the one you were with at the bar the other day?”

Wilhelm nods his head yes, unsure what to do with the information that Simon must have been watching him when he was at the bar too. 

“Oh.” Is all Simon says, looking shy all of a sudden. Wille can practically hear the gears turning in Simon’s brain, and seeing this new side to Simon suddenly leaves him with newly found confidence.

“Yeah. I asked her to come hang out with me because there’s this person that I like, and I know that there’s no way they like me back, so I just felt sad I guess. She helped me a lot tho, I appreciate her so much.”

“How could they not like you back?” Simon asks, warm eyes inviting.

“I don’t know. I’m just, me, and they’re just them. And I don’t know, they’re really cool and confident and seem like they know who they are. And I just don’t sometimes.”

“Sometimes even the people who look like they know what they’re doing are really just faking it.” Simon answers. “All the world’s a stage, right? And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts.”

“Did you just quote Shakespeare?” Wille asks, trying to seem unimpressed while actually trying not to let his jaw drop to the floor at how attractive that just was.

Simon snorts. “Don’t act so surprised. Anyway what I’m saying is we’re all just playing parts right? At some point you realize that even if you play your part well, things don’t always go your way. And sometimes if you improvise off the script things can be good, or not, who knows.” He shrugs.

Wilhelm both curses and thanks whatever god created a creature like Simon. Someone who is so stunning, with an equally beautiful mind and heart. He can’t believe he’s been on this Earth for this long and not actually gotten to have a conversation with this boy and explore his mind before now. 

They simply watch each other for a moment in a comfortable silence and their food is placed in front of them. It’s delicious and as they eat they volley questions back and forth.

“Do you have siblings?” Wilhelm asks.

“Yes, my sister Sara, she also goes to the same Uni as us. How about you?”

“My brother, Erik.” Wilhelm answers, appreciating Simon asking the question back even though he most definitely knows who Wilhelm’s brother is, being the crown prince of Sweden and all.

“What are you studying?” Simon asks him and Wilhelm feels a little bad for Simon, having to ask all these questions he probably knows the answer to.

“Political science and foreign relations. But you probably knew that already,” Wilhelm says, feeling a little silly.

“Why would I know that already?”

“I don’t know, I just figured, it’s info that’s available online everywhere.”

Simon cocks his head at him with a challenging look and Wilhelm is overcome with the thought that he really wants to kiss him.

“Contrary to what you may believe, Mr. Just Wilhelm , I do not actively go out searching for information about the Prince’s university major of choice in my free time. And frankly, I consciously change the channel when news regarding the monarchy comes on.” 

Yup. Wilhelm definitely wants to kiss him. Realizing the absolute shit storm that would occur if he were to kiss a boy in a crowded restaurant, or even what would happen if he kissed him behind closed doors, he forces that thought away. He’s liked girls before. He can do it again. He’s straight. He’s not straight. He can be straight enough.

“How about you?” Wilhelm asks, forcing his voice to be calm. “What are you studying?”

“Music education,” Simon answers, and why does that just make sense? Wille doesn’t know a damn thing about Simon but he knows that makes sense.

“Oh so you’re a musician?” Wilhelm teases, raising an eyebrow.

Simon meets his challenge by laying his arms in front of him on the table and leaning his torso over them slightly, getting a little closer to Wilhelm. “I am. I sing mostly, and I can play the piano fine by ear, but I’m still trying to learn how to read music.”

“I can read music.” Wille shares, not being able to think of anything actually good to say back when he’s so interested in this newfound knowledge about Simon.

“Oh?” Simon asks and leans back again, gaze on Wilhelm intense. “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”

And is Simon flirting with him? No… right? Maybe? 

They continue talking and learning about each other, eventually paying for their meal (Wilhelm insisting on paying for both because it’s his apology meal despite Simon’s protests), and head out. Their shoulders and hands brush together slightly as they both squeeze by the line to exit the building and Wille holds his breath. He can not let himself like this boy. That would probably be the point of no return for his mother.

Simon checks his phone as they walk out the door. “Oh damn, it’s later than I thought. I have a shift in 45 minutes so I need to go back to my dorm, put my stuff away and change.”

Despite knowing that he should probably distance himself from Simon, Wille can’t help but feel sad at the prospect of their day coming to an end. 

“Okay, um have fun Simon.”

Simon seems to notice his hesitancy to walk away because he says, “you can come, if you want,” Simon offers him, and the monarchy be damned, that is an offer Wille can’t force himself to refuse.

They head back to the dorm, and their conversation feels like they’ve known each other for years. It’s strange, but Wilhelm can’t get enough of it.

Simon unlocks his door and they step inside the dorm. Wilhelm stands awkwardly in the middle of the room as Simon begins to grab clothes out of his dresser. He turns around to look at Wille before laughing and saying, “you can sit down on the bed Wille.” And that smirk and sparking eyes are back, oh no, “or is it not up to His Royal Highness’ comfort standards?” Simon asks playfully, adding a slight bow. 

Wilhelm picks a shirt up off the bed and throws it at Simon in retaliation before sitting on the bed. He’s rewarded with a laugh from Simon. Then, without warning, Simon takes off his red crop top and Wilhelm is faced with Simon’s bare chest for a moment before he slips on a black, velvet, button down shirt. 

Wilhelm stares pointedly at the floor, trying to get the image of Simon’s olive skin and toned ab muscles out of his head. Does he work out? Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Simon reaches for his change of pants now, holding them in his hands, and hesitating. Their gazes meet in the mirror and the air in the room feels thicker. 

Wilhelm desperately looks around for a distraction. “Ooh are these your songs?” He asks, grazing his finger over a small notebook that’s open to a page with a lot of words on it on Simon’s nightstand.

“Maybe,” he hears Simon answer, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the notebook as Simon changes his pants. “Please don’t read it.”

“Okay,” Wilhelm answers, immediately accepting Simon’s request. He knows what it’s like having people pry into parts of your life that you want to be private.

“Thanks for the lunch today Wille,” Simon says softly, his gaze equally as soft.

“It was the least I could do after everything you did for me.” Wille answers, chucking slightly. “I’m sorry I literally puked on you and then you had to go and walk my drunk ass home.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“But you did it anyway.”

Simon steps into his space a little bit and Wille can feel his heartbeat speed up. “Maybe I wanted to,” he says. 

“Oh.” Is all Wilhelm says, not knowing what else to say.

Simon’s eyes search his for a moment, and the air feels thick again. 

“Wille?” He asks, and Wilhelm think’s he’s never heard Simon so hesitant. “Do you really not remember what you said to me last night?” 

All the scenarios of what would happen if he says yes run through his mind. Microphones being shoved in his face, his mother yelling at him, his brother being disappointed, the scandal he would cause. All of it makes him want to lie again, but he can’t. Not when Simon’s looking at him like that. Looking at him in a way he’s never had anyone look at him before. Like Wilhelm has all the secrets of the universe and whatever he says next is the key. 

Wilhelm nods, feeling his whole face go red. He looks down at the floor, blocking Simon’s face out of his vision. “I remember,” he says barely above a whisper.

“Wille?” Simon asks again, and when Wille doesn’t look up he feels a gentle hand, a hand he’s been longing to feel again since the day Simon wiped his tears away in the bar bathroom, rest under his chin and push his face up slightly so that their eyes meet. “It’s okay,” Simon says, “I like you too.”

Wille’s heart is beating so fast that he’s sure it’s going to take flight and fly right out of his chest. Simon’s hand slowly falls away from his face and Wille misses the touch instantly. He needs more. More of Simon. He needs all of Simon.

He steps forward so their chests are neatly pressed together and reaches out a hand to put on Simon’s cheek. He expects Simon to pull away, but he doesn’t. His endless, chocolate eyes roaming all over Wilhelm’s face and lingering on his lips. Simon leans forward slightly and Wilhelm can feel his breath, as erratic and nervous as his own, on his face.

Finally, Wilhelm closes the gap between them and presses his lips against Simon’s. He instantly feels Simon kissing him back, matching Wille’s passion with his own. Wille’s hand falls from Simon’s face and he places them both on Simon’s waist, tugging him impossibly closer. Simon goes willingly, leaning into every touch and letting Wilhelm guide him. Simon’s hands roam Wille’s neck, shoulders and arms, seeming to not be able to choose where to land.

Wilhelm gets brave and lets his tongue graze Simon’s bottom lip ever so slightly, which elicits an almost inaudible whimper from Simon. And oh dear god if Wilhelm were to die right now his life would be complete just by hearing that sound. It’s the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard and he wants it again, but he’s out of breath and has to pull away slightly to breathe. Both of them pant against each other, placing their foreheads against each other’s. 

“Fuck,” Simon whispers into him, voice breathless. 

“Mmhm” Wilhelm agrees, his body slowly retuning to this galaxy.

Simon’s phone alarm goes off then, and Simon curses again, having to step away from Wilhelm to shut it off. 

“I have to go to work,” Simon says to Wille, seeming indecisive as to whether his body wants to head toward the door or back toward Wilhelm.

Wilhelm makes the decision for him and tugs Simon back closer, pressing one last chaste kiss to his lips. “Bye Simon,” he mumbles softly.

Simon looks dazed as he steps out the door and into the hallway, turning to look at Wilhelm. “Um I got to go, uh, bye Wille… text me?,” he stutters, and Wille has never seen Simon look anything close to flustered before, and certainly not this flustered before, and he is basking in the sight. He is enamored by Simon’s confidence and well-spoken flawlessness, but this Simon? This Simon who is stuttering over his words with kissed red lips, and a blush dusting his cheeks? He’s sure he could view it for a thousand years and never grow tired. 

Simon disappears down the hallway and Wilhelm is left alone in the dorm room wondering what the hell he has just done. 

Chapter Text

Simon’s POV

Simon concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other as he walks to the bar, careful not to let his mind wander because if he does, he might trip on the sidewalk and land on his ass… where he would like Wilhelm to-

He cuts off his train of thought as quickly as possible, not willing to let it go any further. Though, he rationalizes with himself that it’s not entirely his fault. He’s used to going home with someone every night. Rosh and his friend Ayub from university always joke about his “slutty behaviors” as they call it, but they never mean any harm by it. Sometimes though they do become serious about it, and he really hates those times. Those times when they ask him with all the sincerity in the world behind their eyes if he feels the need to sleep with all these people because he’s trying to distract himself from other things. Yeah, he’s told them about his dad. Not everything, not all the details, but enough. And he knows they worry about him and care about him, and know that he loves and cares about them right back, even when sometimes it feels like his heart is too hardened to admit it.

He’d always dismissed their worry, claiming that he was young and very much gay and that he could do what he wanted with who he wanted at night, and that he didn’t need them trying to bring a deeper meaning into anything. But now he’s not so sure. Now that it’s been a while since he’s slept with anyone because it just felt wrong to want to do that after meeting Wille, (he’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean), he’s thinking there might be a little truth to their theory after all. After the past several days of laying in bed alone, awake at night, trying to sleep with all his thoughts suffocating him, and nightmares haunting his dreams he knows it’s true.

The nightmares still haunted his sleep when he was laying next to whatever stranger, but at least he was thoroughly… distracted before it was time to fall asleep. Sometimes the nice ones are kind to him when he tosses and turns restlessly in his sleep, waking up gasping for air, and oftentimes the other guys aren’t. He doesn’t mind either way. He just lets whatever they want to happen, happen, and they provide a him distraction in return. It doesn’t matter if they’re rough with him like they often are, he’s used to being thrown around his whole life, all that matters is if they can provide a way for his brain to shut off.

But he doesn’t have to be sleeping with Wille for his mind to go quiet. He doesn't even have to be touching him. All it takes is just being near him, or even thinking about him for his head to be silent. And his head is going pleasantly silent again now, as he reaches the staff door of the bar, thinking about Wille’s soft lips against his.

“Simon, if you weren’t a dude I’d ask you if you were pregnant, cause you’re glowing,” Rosh says to him as they both put on their aprons and prepare for their shift. 

“You’re so strange,” Simon says, grinning and trying not to let his expression give much away.

“True. But what’s the most strange right now is definitely you.”

“Why?”

“Because Simon,” Rosh says, emphasizing his name and rolling her eyes like it should be painfully obvious what she’s talking about. “You are always acting like the coolest cat in town-”

“Please never say ‘coolest cat in town ever again-”

“Shut up- always acting like the coolest cat in town- which is a load of shit by the way- with all your outfits and your jewelry, your whole ‘Mr. Confident’ aura, and your smooth, flirty lines that you use to get more tips than me, you asshole. And now you walk in here like this. ”

“Like what?” he says, trying to push away the thoughts of Wille as Rosh observes him. 

“You know what!” She says, tossing his notepad to write down people’s drinks (that he never uses because he just remembers their orders) at him to put in his apron. She checks her watch, “Simon the bar opens in five minutes so you have exactly that long to tell me what exactly has got you like this.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“Nope, try again.”

“I swear, nothing happened!”

“It's literally so obvious! You’re blushing like a tomato!”

“I don’t blush like a tomato !”

“Simonnnn”

“Roshhhhh”

She laughs at him playfully again, “My gosh Simon, why are you being so difficult?”

The tv remote being thrown at him, narrowly missing his head. “Why are you being so difficult? Fuck off.”

His face must have fallen at the memory from many years ago being triggered so suddenly, because Rosh immediately stops pestering him and takes a step toward him slowly. He curses himself in his head. Normally he’s better at hiding these things, what has gotten into him?

“Simon, are you okay? I was just being an annoying friend on purpose, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“I’m fine,” he answers on autopilot.

“Can I give you a hug?”

“I thought you don’t like hugs,” he says.

“I guess I can make a small exception for you,” she says and Simon smirks. “Shut up and pretend this hug never happened.” She hugs him tightly and holds on for a few moments, before going to unlock the front doors. 

. 

. 

.

Wilhelm’s POV

He’s just kissed Simon. Simon. He never would have believed in a million years that Simon would want to kiss him. He’s Simon , beautiful, radiant, confident, teasing, lovely, perfect, Simon. And Wilhelm’s just Wilhelm, awkward, anxious, confused, and scared of disappointing people. 

Disappointing people…

Disappointing people…

Disappointing his mother…

His father…

His brother…

Simon…

What if Simon really doesn’t like him? Why would he? No, no, Simon’s not like that. Simon wouldn’t pretend. Simon does like him, he’s sure of that. He remembers Simon’s hands delicately brushing his face like a butterfly’s wing and telling him he likes him too. And he’s sure he likes Simon. But his mother had told him he needed to start searching for a partner this year, and this wasn’t what she had meant. She wanted him to find a nice noble girl, someone who had been trained since birth to be a perfect member of high society just like him. Thoughts are tumbling around faster and faster and he sits down on Simon’s bed to keep from tumbling over.

Almost as soon as he sits, he feels his back pocket of his pants buzzing. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and sees the screen lighting up with Erik’s contact, and Wilhelm has never felt so relieved. Erik has always been there for him and always knows the right thing to say and the right thing to do. He knows that he’s so happy to hear from his brother right now, but makes a mental note to not bring up Simon as he swipes to answer the call.

“Wilhelm!” his brother greets him with a warm smile as his face shows up on the screen, “it’s been almost a week since we’ve last talked! What’s been keeping you so busy?”

“Hi Erik!” Wilhelm replies happily, “I don’t know, just a lot of work for university I suppose.”

“You. Wilhelm. The boy who has called me almost every night since you moved into your apartment and who has never once mentioned school, is ghosting me for homework?”

Wilhelm laughs, already feeling better from bantering with Erik, “Hey! People can change.”

“Okay, okay,” Erik says, “so you’ve been doing okay then, yah?”

“Yeah,” Wilhelm says, smiling softly, his mind wandering to the kiss for a moment before he forces his thoughts to reorganize.

“Oh, you’ve been doing very okay then I take it,” his brother says, and Wilhelm can feel the teasing energy through the phone screen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wilhelm chuckles.

“You’ve met someone.”

“What? No.”

“Okay, so who’s room are you in right now?”

Wilhelm freezes for a moment, the realization that the wall and the window that can be seen behind him over facetime are very distinctly a dorm room wall and window, and Wille doesn’t live in a dorm.

“Um… a friend’s room?”

“Okay…” Erik tilts his head and smiles, “do you happen to like this friend?”

Wille sighs and rolls his eyes, there’s no hiding it now. His brother can read him like a book. “Okay! Fine! Yes, I like them.” 

He’s not sure if it’s Erik’s excited expression over the phone or the constant thoughts of Simon bursting into his brain but he continues. “They’re just different from anyone I’ve met before. They’re sincere and they don’t take people’s shit. And they’re so nice to talk to. They’re not pretending to be someone they’re not, and they have read so many books, including all of Shakespeare’s works. And not like Aunt Claire who likes to brag about that to be pretentious, but because they actually feel the writing’s meaning. It’s like everything they say is interesting, because it is. They know Spanish and have a sister who I haven’t met but it sounds like they’re really close. And they’re a musician, and they write songs and-”

Wilhelm’s finally aware that he’s been rambling, so he shuts his mouth, a little embarrassed. Erik is laughing gleefully over the phone. “Wille!” He shouts over the phone, “I seriously need to meet this girl who has got you so smitten because I have never seen you like this before. It’s amazing!”

This girl. 

Erik is so excited to meet the girl he likes, and Wille’s going to disappoint him. He never should have thought he could do this. That’s what he has to do after all. Marry some rich noble girl and provide the perfect royal family. He has few jobs in life and that’s one of them. It’s been ingrained in his mind practically since birth. 

“Yeah,” Wilhelm says softly before Erik has to leave and Wille is once again sitting in Simon’s room in silence. He looks around and realizes how perfect this little dorm room is, how right it feels to be sitting in it. And how perfect Simon is. And how none of this is what’s supposed to feel perfect for Wilhelm. What is supposed to happen the day that Erik asks to meet the girl he likes? This is all going to crash and burn, and Wille doesn’t want to leave Simon alone in the flames. The last thing he ever could want is to hurt Simon. He needs to stop this now, and allow Simon to be free of the chaos that is Wilhelm and Wilhelm’s life. He should tell him now, before it goes too far and before Simon will actually be upset about Wille having to change his mind. 

. 

. 

.

Simon's POV

After Simon’s done closing up the bar with Rosh, he pulls out his phone. There’s no messages from Wille but there are several from Sara.

* * *

Where were you after class today?

Oh shit, sorry. I 

forgot to tell you I wouldn’t 

be in the library like usual

So you went to see Micke again?

What? No, I didn’t 

Sure

Sara I rlly didn’t go to see him 

I swear 

We promised each other no secrets

Okay fine, I was out with someone, ok?

Like on a date?

I don’t know

You expect me to believe that you, 

Simon, were on a date? Are 

you this desperate to make me 

believe you?

I don’t know if it was a date. 

Sara, I swear on Mama that 

I wasn’t with Micke today 

Okay. So you really went on a date?

With whom Simon?

I don’t know what it is. Or what we are. 

We just had lunch and then

 hung out for a bit

And who is this mysterious person 

who actually convinced my brother

to go on a date with them?

I go on dates 

No you don’t. 

Rude :(

Going back to your dorm early in the 

morning from someone else’s place

isn’t a date.

I don’t do that

You do that every night Simon 

Fine. Be creepy like that and 

know everything about me.

Thanks, I will. And you’re deflecting. 

* * *

He doesn’t respond to that message and when he makes it back to his dorm, Sara is sitting on his bed.

“Jesus Christ Sara! You scared the shit out of me!”

“You’re the one that gave me a key to your room… which I’ve also noticed you’ve actually been using recently.” When Simon doesn’t make a move to speak she continues, “are you finally done with hooking up with random people now?”

Simon sighs, “do you always have to be so direct Sara?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“So?” 

Sitting here on the bed with Sara makes him realize that this isn’t something they’ve done in a while. Almost every night among the yelling and the fights, the two of them used to hide under the covers and whisper every single thought in their brains to each other until they fell asleep. He isn’t sure if it’s the memory that makes him do it, or how patiently Sara is waiting for his answer, but he opens up to her.

“Yeah,” he begins, not knowing where to start. “I met this guy, and he’s really beautiful. Like inside and out. I just like talking to him. I like being with him… I think he feels the same but, it’s complicated.”

“Why is it complicated?”

“I don’t know how um… where he comes from would feel about him liking a boy.”

“Oh. That’s shitty,” she says, and Simon laughs. “But you really like him?”

Simon looks down at the bed and plays with a loose string on the blanket between his fingers. “Yeah, I really do. And it’s terrifying.”

And Sara simply nods. He doesn’t have to explain to her why that’s scary. She knows. Knows how hard it is for both of them to allow themselves to get close to people. If you expect to be hurt by someone then you’ll be far less disappointed.

Sara, clearly trying to lighten the mood, asks, “So did you kiss him?”

Simon covers his face with his hands. He knows he’s done way more explicit things with so many other people that he’d never mention to his sister, so why does admitting something as simple as kissing the boy he likes feel so embarrassing? 

“Yeah,” he mumbles into his palms, cheeks going hot and a smile breaking onto his face.

“Simon!!!” Sara giggles, grabbing him and making them tumble backwards onto their backs. 

* * *

Simon hasn’t seen Wilhelm since their kiss since Wednesday evening, and now it’s almost been a full twenty-four hours and still he has no messages. 

He puts his phone into his backpack and continues doing his homework in the library. 

“Hey Simon, what’d you write for question #9?” Sara asks him.

“You’re already on question nine?” Ayub asks shocked, “Simme what question are you on?” He peeks over to Simon’s computer. “Oh of course freaking Alexander Hamilton himself over here is already on #13. And did you write paragraphs for all of them?

Simon laughs and shrugs, “I had a lot to say.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just make us all look bad,” Ayub jokes.

The three laugh together and continue to work on the assignment. Simon feels his phone buzz in his backpack and he takes it out to look at it. It’s a message from Wille.

Wille:

Hey, can we meet up?

Simon can’t help but smile down at his phone and Sara teases, “are you texting your new boyfriend?”

“What boyfriend?” Ayub asks, maybe a bit too loud for the library. Sara shushes him and they all giggle.

“It’s nothing,” answers Simon.

“Lies!” Sara whisper-yells. “He’s like totally head over heels.”

“Ohhhh shit I’m proud of you man,” Ayub says, giving him a fist bump.

“Thanks,” Simon says, rolling his eyes and texting Wille back.

Simon:

Sure, I’m in the library, where r u?

Wille:

Wanna meet halfway in the music room?

Simon:

Ok, see ya in a sec

Simon starts shoving everything into his backpack. When he’s done he looks up to see Ayub and Sara laughing at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ayub says, still chuckling. “You’re usually just all Mr. James Bond cool energy. And now you’re shoving papers into your bag with a grin on your face, acting like me whenever a girl says anything remotely nice to me.

“Hey! I say nice things to you!” Sara chimes in.

“First of all, no you don’t and second of all you don’t count.”

“Hey!” Sara laughs, and flicks her eraser at him. 

Simon says bye to his friends and heads to the music room.

. 

.

.

Wilhelm’s POV

When Simon arrives, Wille is sitting on the piano bench.

“Hey,” he says, and Wille says “hey” back.

Simon walks over and sits on the piano bench next to him. The light streaming in is making the tips Simon’s curls a beautiful shade of golden brown. His eyes sparkling, his nose that adorably turns up just a little, he’s perfect. Why does he have to look so fucking perfect all the time, especially now?  They’re sitting so close all he would have to do is just lean in a little bit to kiss him.

Wille doesn’t though, and forces himself to put distance between them before he can do something stupid, shifting slightly apart on the bench. Wille reaches out and taps a few keys on the piano, trying to hide his jitters.

Simon decides to help him out and start the conversation. “You said you knew how to read music, right? Can you play the piano?”

Wilhelm nods and begins to play whatever it is that someone’s left on the music stand. When he finishes playing Simon is smiling at him. He applauds jokingly which makes Wilhelm laugh a little bit and immediately feel even more guilty.

“So, about yesterday,” Simon begins without any hesitation, just pure, radiant, confidence, “I just wanted to say that-”

“-I think we should forget about that,” Wilhelm interjects, avoiding his gaze.

“What?” Simon asks, obviously blindsighted by Wille’s words. 

“It’s just… it’s just that I’m not like that… Do you get what I’m saying?”

He forces himself to look back at Simon, whose face doesn’t change, but something in his eyes seems to snap. 

“You’re not like that?” Simon repeats, almost to himself. A disbelieving look shadowing over his face and combining with the hurt in his eyes.

“Simon. I’m sorry. I just- I just can’t- I think we should forget about this.”

“Okay…” Simon is silent for too long. Wille swings his feet back and forth under the piano bench, feeling like the floor is going to collapse beneath him. “But why? What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! It’s not you, it’s just-” Wilhelm doesn’t know what to say, so he decides to repeat out loud what he’s been trying to convince himself is true. “I mean I don’t like boys.”

“You don’t like boys.” Simon repeats Wilhelm’s line back to him flatly, with an edge of disbelief. Wilhelm feels like he’s going to be crushed under the weight of Simon’s gaze. And then Wille watches as Simon does that thing that he does. That thing that Wille doesn’t like. Where he pushes the emotions off his face into a look of indifference. And Wille’s not sure which he hates worse, the hurt that was plastered all over Simon’s face, or the blankness now.

Wilhelm forces himself to continue looking at Simon as his chest constricts. Wilhelm doesn’t know what else to say now so he just silently looks at Simon, pleading with him to understand. But by all his time spent watching Simon at the bar, he should know by now that Simon isn’t one to take people’s bullshit. And Wille’s fully aware he’s a complete bullshiting idiot at this moment.

“If you don’t like boys, then why did you kiss me?”

Wille’s throat is constricting now along with his chest and it feels like he can barely breathe. All he wants to do is cry and apologize to Simon and for Simon to hold him again. It was the best feeling in the world but he knows he can never have it again. He has to do what’s right and right now that means having to push Simon away, so he lies. “I don’t know… I was- I was trying to figure out some things.”

“Fucking hell Wilhelm I’m not some experiment!” Simon says, words filled with a venom that Wilhem didn’t know was able to come out of Simon’s sweet tongue. 

“I didn’t say you were!” Wilhelm’s stress taking over him and yelling a bit more forcefully than he intended.

Simon shakes his head at him and pulls his backpack off the floor, standing up and throwing one strap over his shoulder. 

“Wait, Simon. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I am and I’m sorry and it doesn’t even matter because I can’t be that. It isn’t in the cards for me… I can’t be this,” he finishes, gesturing between himself and Simon.

Simon’s expression remains still like stone but Wille can see a hurricane of hurt deep behind his dark eyes. “If you can’t be this ,” Simon begins, his voice wavering slightly, “then you shouldn’t have kissed me like that .”

Simon turns and walks out of the room, and Wilhelm is left sitting there alone, stunned into silence

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Sara’s POV:

Sara’s back in her dorm now after just having grabbed some dinner from the dining hall. She pulls out her chemistry homework and goes to pull out her chemistry textbook as well when she realizes she left it in Simon’s room. She checks the time and realizes it’s only been less than an hour since Simon ditched them studying in the library for his date (she’s still so surprised about Simon actually being willing to date someone, but she’s proud of him even though she would never tell him that), so she grabs her key that he gave her to his dorm because he’s most likely still out with whoever the mystery boy is. 

She walks two steps right across the hall to where Simon’s dorm is located, pulls out the key and opens the door. She scans the room for wherever she put her textbook, but instead of finding it she finds Simon sitting on the floor against the wall. His head is buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees which are pushed up to his chest, and he is crying silent tears. 

Simon, hearing the door open, looks up at her and Sara’s so stunned to see tears rolling down his cheeks that the keys she is holding drop out of her hand and onto the floor. This is only the fourth time in her entire life she’s ever seen Simon cry. The first being the day that they don’t talk about. The second being the day their mom passed away, and the third being the day of her funeral.

As these memories fill her brain Simon’s already standing up and brushing past her with his head down. She opens her mouth and asks what’s wrong but Simon ignores her and disappears down the hallway into the stairwell. 

She sits in her room right across the hall all night, listening for him to come back. She knows better than to try and text Simon when he disappears. It’s not worth it, she never gets a reply back. She finally hears the click of his door opening and closing, signaling his return at 5:00 am the next morning. 

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

It’s been almost a week since Wilhelm has last spoken to Simon, but their conversation still plays over and over in his mind. 

“If you can’t be this, then you shouldn’t have kissed me like that.”

It replays over and over in his mind every moment of every day and he feels like he is slowly going insane. Felice had asked him what was wrong and he told her that he was just feeling ill, probably caught a bad cold or something. He feels like such a bad friend. He hadn’t even told her that he and Simon hung out, or that they had kissed, but it feels pointless to tell her now. 

If he tells her that then he’ll have to tell her that he ended things with Simon, and there is no way she can understand why. No one, except maybe Erik, would be able to understand why. 

His mother had just called him last night chastising him for not having all high marks in his classes and for them being significantly lower than Erik’s when he attended the same University. Also, his PR manager had apparently emailed his mother saying that he appeared too nervous during his speech for the virtual charity fundraiser over the weekend which his mother also admonished him for. Despite his best efforts, he’s never enough. And to top it all off, the viral video of him getting into a fight last year still circulates the internet every now and then. Maybe if he were good at being a prince he could talk to his mother and tell her about who he liked. Maybe they could find a way. But he isn’t a perfect prince, in fact he’s a terrible one who can’t afford to bring yet another shit-storm into the palace if he were to come out. And come out as what? He doesn’t even know. How can he subject Simon to all of that when he doesn’t even know who he is?

Despite his best efforts to not think about Simon, the universe seems to be against him because now it feels like he sees him all the time. He hasn’t gone to the bar once, and before he noticed him at said bar, he never saw Simon around campus. But now it feels like Simon is all he sees. It’s never up close, but that doesn’t matter. Wilhelm’s brain seems to be able to pick Simon out of any crowd walking across campus, or maybe it’s not Wille’s brain and Simon just stands out that much. His dark studded earrings, or sometimes small hoop ones, his different necklaces that shine against his olive skin, his ripped jeans, cropped tops, and oversized denim jackets. On Tuesday Simon had worn an orange mesh shirt over a fitted black crop top and Wilhelm thought he was going to pass out. 

On Wednesday he buys a black T-shirt almost identical to the one he threw up on and ruined what feels like a lifetime ago. He puts it in a small box and writes on a sticky note, dropping it off outside Simon’s dorm. 

    I still owed you a shirt for the one I ruined. 

    p.s. You were never an experiment to me. I’m sorry

On Thursday Wilhelm realizes that he’s been so disjointed that he hasn’t called Erik in a long time. He reaches for his phone and calls his brother, praying that Erik won’t ask to switch it to FaceTime. His brother can read him like a book and will surely know something’s up if he can see Wilhelm.

“Hey Wille!” Erik answers on the fourth ring, “Too busy for me again this week?”

“I guess you could say that…” Wille says hesitantly. 

And Erik must hear it over the phone because he asks “Wille? Are you okay?” 

For some reason Felice, Madison, and even August asking if he was okay didn’t affect him the same way as his brother asking it right now does, and he knows that he needs to take this opportunity. He’s been feeling like a part of himself has been missing this whole week, and despite having only known that part for a short time, it leaves just as big of a hole in his heart. He’s missing Simon. And he wants Erik to know. 

“Um… not really actually,” Wilhelm finally responds, sniffling a little.

“Oh Wille, it’s okay. Can we switch to FaceTime please?”

Wille wipes at his eyes quickly before accepting the FaceTime request. When Erik pops up on his screen looking concerned, Wille brings a hand up on his collarbone to soothe his breathing.

“Hey, hey, Wille it’s okay. You’re alright. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s,” he breaths out, “it’s the um person that I was telling you about,”

“The one that you said was sincere, nice, has read all of Shakespeare, knows Spanish, and likes music? Those just being a few of the hundred things you listed when you talked about them for forever? Yeah I think I vaguely remember something about that.”

Wille laughs, so grateful for his brother. He always knows how to calm down a situation and make it better. And that’s why he needs to tell Erik. Erik will know what to do, how to fix it.

“Well um… I kinda really fucked everything up with them,”

“Fucked it up how?” His brother asks.

“We went on a date? Kind of? Or I guess it wasn’t a date, it was more of an ' I’m sorry for throwing up on you’ lunch from me.'”

“You threw up on them?” Erik asks, looking like he’s trying to contain his laughter.

“Yeah but that’s not how I fucked things up. That’s actually how things started... That doesn’t make any sense to you but that’s not the point.”

Erik is laughing at him good-naturedly but waiting for him to continue, so he does, “and after the lunch they had to go to work but they asked me if I wanted to come back to their dorm really quickly-“

“-The room that I saw when I Facetimed you?”

“-Yes, that's the one. And we went back there, and he was changing for work, and then I kissed him. And then he had to leave so I was still there and that’s when you called me. And then I got really freaked out and I told them that I didn’t like them a few days ago and I haven’t talked to them since.”

“Why did you tell him you didn’t like him?” Erik asks.

“I don’t know- wait. Did you just say him? ” Wille asks. How the hell did Erik know he was talking about a guy? 

“Yeah,” Erik says, not missing a beat, still looking calmly at Wille through the phone. “You said you kissed him .”

“I did?” Wille practically squeaks, and he feels his stomach drop.

Erik nods and smiles softly. He doesn’t speak for a moment and Wille would like nothing more than to disappear. “Wille, you know it’s okay right? If you like a boy. And I’m sorry if you didn’t mean to tell me that right now and said it by accident. But I want you to know that you can tell me, if you want to. You can like whoever you want, you’ll always be my brother, and as long as they make you happy I’ll like them too.”

Wille opens his mouth to speak, but he’s too choked up for words to come out. “Thank you Erik,” he finally croaks out.

“So back to the way you told him you didn’t like him? And is it possible I can get a name here?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s Simon.” Wille’s mind is still swirling from having just come out to his brother but he pieces his thoughts together enough. “I got scared, and I always ruin everything, and I didn’t want to drag Simon down with me. And I didn’t want to make things more difficult, and I’m always disappointing Mama, and-“

Erik’s smile fades and his face is more serious. “Wille, you worry about you, and I’ll worry about Mama okay? And you don’t ruin everything. I’m not going to lie. Being who we are, everything is different. And I can’t lie to you and say that liking Simon, he has a good name by the way, is going to be easy. There will be challenges that come with that but I’m here for you. And you can do this. You’re stronger than you think.”

“Thanks Erik. I love you.”

“I love you too, now what are you going to do?”

“Well I didn’t exactly tell him that I didn’t like him. I told him I didn’t like boys.”

“Oh Wille,” Erik says affectionately. “Sometimes I feel like your brain is just filled with bricks.”

“You’re so annoying,” Wille says back, just as affectionately. “How about instead of insulting me you tell me how to fix this.”

Erik laughs and says. “I think you just have to tell him the truth and hope he understands. There’s nothing else to say other than the truth. That you were scared of what might happen because of who you are, but that you really do like him and that you’re sorry. That’s the best you can do.”

“I’ll try,” Wilhelm says. They talk for a bit more about what Erik’s up to at the palace before ending the call. 

Wille stares at his phone in his hands for several minutes before he finally types out a text and sends it. 

Hey Simon, can we talk?

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Simon’s POV

Simon lays in his bed, waiting for sleep to come. It’s the first time he’s used his room since after the day Wille told him that he didn’t want him. He’d decided that tonight he doesn’t want to deal with the regret in the morning though, even if that means waking up from his haunting dreams alone. He didn’t used to regret it. Not really anyway. Waking up with someone next to him used to help enough, and sometimes he even met someone who was pretty cool, but either way he never stayed for a second night. 

But even after Wille had told him that he didn’t like boys, which was obviously a lie, which meant Wille was just trying to be nice and not tell Simon that it was really him that he didn’t like, the feeling of anyone else’s hands on him just felt wrong. It was as if every time he was being touched by someone else he was wishing it were Wilhelm’s lips and hands instead. 

He rolls over and pushes his face into his pillow, and at the same time his phone buzzes. He picks it up and is surprised to see who the message is from. 

Hey Simon, can we talk?

He takes a deep breath and hesitates with his finger for several moments before he remembers the golden rule that he and Sara had created one of those nights, and presses the block button. 

Their golden rule, if you expect to be hurt by someone then you’ll be far less disappointed. He’s broken that rule for boys years ago. He’s broken that rule for Micke. And he’s broken it again for a prince who he had thought was different. And look where it got him. 

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Wilhelm’s POV

It’s now Friday afternoon, and it’s almost been a full 24 hours since Wille sent his text to Simon. It says “read” but Simon hasn’t replied. He knows he fucked everything up, and he knows that he deserves this. Simon doesn’t owe him anything and he has every right to not talk to him.

For some reason though he can’t stop himself. His stupid brain won’t let him forget about everything and after class ends Wilhelm finds himself heading towards the study space in one of the dorm buildings… specifically the building that Simon lives in. He’s not sure if he went here looking for Simon or not, but his body willed him here anyway. He remembers what happened the last time he was here, and his lips feel numb. 

He walks into the common room area that is open to all students on the first floor of the dorm building and notices that the room is empty… except for Simon. Of. Fucking. Course.

He locks eyes with Simon and they’re steadily locked on his, Simon’s gaze hard and almost challenging. Realizing it would be extremely obvious and awkward to turn around and run away now, Wilhelm sits down on the sofa farthest away from Simon. The room isn’t that large however, and Wilhelm can still feel the nervous buzz in his chest. He takes out his laptop to look busy, and waits a moment before allowing himself to peek over it at Simon. Simon’s staring at a textbook, writing down what looks to be math problems in a purple notebook. Simon’s just wearing a hoodie today, also purple and making him look incredibly soft. Wille tears his eyes off of Simon to look at his own computer screen. They both work on their homework in silence for several minutes.

A tall boy with dark hair saunters into the common room with a swagger and Wilhelm immediately dislikes his presence for some reason. There turns out to be a reason after all however when as the boy has almost walked fully passed them both he looks up and there’s a surprised recognition on his face. Except the recognition isn’t directed at Wilhelm, it’s directed at Simon. 

“Hey, you’re the guy from the bar?” the tall, dark haired boy asks with a smirk, sauntering over to Simon and basically towering over him. Wilhelm immediately feels on edge. 

Simon’s head shoots up startled at the voice and asks “Anders?”

“Didn’t expect to see you here, you go to school here?”

“No,” Simon answers nonchalantly and Wille’s very confused. He knows for a fact that Simon does indeed go to school here. Simon leans back on the couch in a relaxed manner but Wilhelm can’t help but notice the way Simon is gripping his pencil harder. 

“Whatever. Anyways-” the dark haired boy, Anders apparently, says like he doesn’t actually care at all about Simon’s answer, “Let’s repeat what happened a couple days ago at my place again. What do you think?”

Wilhelm doesn’t have the right to judge Simon’s life or Simon’s decisions. He’s the one who distanced himself from Simon on purpose and Simon can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. Still he can’t help but feel hurt and breathes in and out slowly. He wants to get up and run out of this room as fast as possible but he’s just now realizing that Anders didn’t see him sitting over in the corner and doesn’t know he’s there, and he doesn’t want to cause any more of a scene.

“No thanks,” Simon answers, before ignoring Anders (ew) in front of him and going back to his math problems. Wilhelm can’t help but feel a little relieved at Simon’s rejection, and a little in awe of how unbothered Simon seems. His grip on his pencil has turned into a white-knuckle one however so perhaps his indifference is just a facade. 

Anders goes closer to Simon and grabs his math textbook, glancing at it before promptly snapping it shut. Simon sighs and crosses his arms, looking Anders dead in the eye with a piercing look. “What’s gotten into you? You were so willing to come with me the other night you didn’t even give me your name,” He says with a sneer, “you didn’t say no to anything before.”

“Well I’m saying it now.”

“Does this shit have to do with your little nightmare you had at my place or something? Don’t be a child.”

At those words, Wille watches as Simon’s attitude of not giving a fuck slips for a split second before it returns as quickly as it left. Anders doesn’t seem to notice because he steps even closer to Simon. If he takes one more step Wille swears he is going to punch him.

“I don’t have time for this, I have to go,” Anders continues speaking, grabbing a piece of paper from Simon’s notebook and scribbling down what Wille assumes is a phone number, “but if you figure your shit out before tonight is over, text me. We both know that’s what people like you are good for anyways.”

And Wilhelm’s blood is boiling so hot that he can’t help but burst over at these sickening words. “You shouldn’t talk to people like that,” he says before he can stop himself. 

Simon’s eyes snap to his for the first time since Wilhelm had entered the room and Anders spins around toward him, clearly startled that there’s been someone else in the room this whole time.

“Prince Wilhelm!” Anders greets him, voice jolly and his smile wide, like he wasn’t just acting the way he was to Simon. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Your Majesty. I heard you were attending University here.” He makes his way over to Wilhelm and holds out his hand for a handshake, which Wilhelm promptly denies. Flushing in embarrassment, Anders puts his hand down. Wilhelm just stares at him, and usually he hates having this royal power over people but right now he’s thoroughly enjoying making this boy sweat. “Um.. what are you doing in here?”

“I’m studying,” Wilhelm says bluntly before asking, “and what is it exactly you’re doing here?”

“Oh just catching up with someone I met a few days ago.”

“You shouldn't speak to him that way.”

“You’re right, Your Highness, I’m terribly sorry,” Anders says, seeming so sincere, and Wilhelm has only ever headbutted someone once, but he thinks he’d like to do it again.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

“Oh, yes. Right,” Anders turns to Simon, “my apologies,” he finishes before promptly exiting the room.

After he’s gone, Simon finally speaks to Wilhelm for the first time since Wilhelm had messed everything up. “I didn’t need you to do that,” he says, sounding angry. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know,” Wilhelm says, feeling guilty. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Simon looks at him for a moment longer before he grabs the math textbook and stuffs it into his backpack along with the rest of his belongings. He picks it up and starts to head for the door without another word.

“Wait, Simon,” Wille calls out and Simon turns around. “Are you okay?” he asks, not knowing whether he’s crossing a line but needing to know that Simon’s alright.

“Always.” Simon replies without a hint of emotion in his voice or on his face. He disappears out the door without another word and is gone.

Wilhelm just stands there with his mind flying one hundred miles a minute trying to process what just happened. Who is this casual hookup Anders guy? And are there more of them? Was Wille going to just be one too? Did he actually matter to Simon as much as Simon mattered to him? And if he didn’t then why is Simon acting so mad at him? And what was this about a nightmare? What was Simon’s nightmare about? 

He has to fix this. But he shouldn’t. But he needs to.

Chapter Text

Simon’s POV:

Thank god that his shift at the bar tonight is a short one. They’re training some new employees this week which means his shift ends early tonight and tomorrow, and then he has Sunday night off. He can’t remember the last time that’s happened. As he’s pouring drinks for the bustle of bar patrons coming in and out, his mind keeps wandering back to Wille sitting across the room in the common room of his dorm earlier today. It reminds him of when Wille would sit across the bar and watch him, most likely thinking that Simon didn’t notice all his stolen glances. Why did Wille stand up for him if he doesn’t like Simon like that? It doesn’t make any sense and it’s at times like these where Simon really wishes that he did drink. But he can’t bring himself to, not after everything he’s seen alcohol do to his dad. And shit, his dad. He hasn’t gone to see him in a while. 

“Hey,” Simon hears which pulls him out of his thoughts and his fake smile he’s currently giving a customer who he’s handing a drink to. Simon turns around toward the voice, which belongs to a blonde boy who looks about his age who is looking at him. Rosh is faster however and asks him what he’d like. “Gin and Tonic,” the boy replies, eyes still on Simon.

Rosh turns around to go make the drink and nudges Simon playfully. “You’ve got another one.”

Simon sighs, “yeah, I saw.”

Rosh looks at Simon more closely now. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing,” Simon replies.

“Simon you’ve left here with someone every night this week except last night. And usually you’d be all over him right now, stealing his tips and his heart.” She laughs. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that Wilhelm hasn’t been at the bar at all recently?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” is all he says, and he resumes working in silence, pointedly avoiding the boy who is still looking at him. 

Rosh doesn’t press him further, but keeps shooting him worried glances at him for the rest of their shift until management and the new hires arrive and they’re free to leave.

As Simon and Rosh step outside and start to head their ways home, the blonde haired boy exits the bar and walks toward them. 

“Excuse me,” Simon hears, and he sighs and turns around. 

“Can I help you?” Simon asks.

“Yes, actually. I was hoping you could,” he looks at Rosh like he doesn’t want to say more while she’s around, which Simon is extremely grateful for right now. Unfortunately, this effect doesn’t last long and he continues. “I was told by someone I know that there’s a bartender who works here who um…”

“Who what?” Rosh asks defensively, and subtly plants herself between the boy and Simon.

“Who um… you know what nevermind,” the boy says and takes off in the other direction. 

Simon looks down at his shoes and pointedly ignores Rosh’s look. “I know, I know, now I’ve got a fucking reputation for being a-”

“-That’s not what I was going to say,” she frowns, “I was going to ask if you’re alright.”

Simon nods and presses play on one of his many practiced, “I’m fines” that are recorded in his brain. He knows he probably should talk to Rosh, but he just doesn’t feel like opening his heart up to someone right now. They bid each other goodbye and head in their separate directions. 

With every step he finds himself wanting to talk about everything with his mom more and more. He always told her everything about school, or exciting things with his friends, good grades, or the stupid boys that he had crushes on, and she was supportive every single time. And every time when he got his heart broken he would come home and she would have cookies, juice or soda ready for him in no time. She used to say that he was strong, and that it hurt the way it did because his heart was too big for his body sometimes, but that having a heart that size was also a superpower. But then she got sick, and his dad got worse, and he didn’t want to add any more to her plate, so he started keeping his heartbreaks to himself. And eventually he didn’t allow his heart to be out there to be broken at all. Until now…

He wishes more than anything that he could go back to his Mama’s house, curl up under a blanket and drink juice and soda, telling her everything. But she is gone and that won’t ever be possible again. He does have a parent that was still alive though, and maybe he should stop taking that for granted. Maybe he should go visit him while he is still alive, because despite everything Simon knows he’ll regret pushing Micke away when he’s gone too. And in the bottom of his heart a small part of him that is tucked away is hoping that Micke can comfort his sadness over Wille in a way that only a parent can. 

* * *

The sun is almost completely set now as he makes it up the stairs to his dad’s apartment. The floorboards creak under him and the hallway light flickers which makes him immediately feel uneasy. The hallway is an odd green hue from the cheap lighting and the apartment doors that surround him give off an ominous glow from the lights on inside, almost inviting him like they knew he’d be back.

He almost wants to abort his plans of coming here and just go back to his dorm, but there’s no point. He won’t fall asleep anyway, the nightmares always keep him awake. But those are just his mind twisting his thoughts and showing him the worst version of things, and sometimes things that didn’t even happen, but maybe could have. Micke’s doing better now though and the two times Simon’s gone to visit over the course of a few months Micke’s been sober. He convinces himself that he needs to show his brain that things are okay now. That Micke wants to see him and isn’t like that anymore so the nightmares will fade. 

As Simon knocks on his door, he realizes that he normally texts the day or so beforehand. He hopes that it’s okay that he’s showing up unannounced this time. As he knocks again on the door and it is opened by his dad, eyes red and pupils dilated, he knows immediately that this was a mistake.

“Simon!” his dad says seemingly happy to see him, “You haven’t been here in so long! Where have you been?”

“I’ve been busy with school… um I can come back another time.”

“No, no,” Micke says before physically pulling Simon by his jacket into the house and shutting the door. “Please, sit.”

When Simon hesitates, Micke’s expression changes and Simon’s heart drops into his stomach. He glances at the door and considers how many steps it would take to reach it, and how many steps it would take Micke to reach him. Considering how close to him Micke is right now, he knows that he certainly wouldn’t make it.

“Why do you smell like booze?” his dad asks.

“I work at the bar right near where I go to school, dad. I’ve told you this.” 

“Don’t speak to me like that. You haven’t visited me in weeks, you can’t speak to me like that.”

Simon swallows at how Micke’s words are slurring. “Sorry.”

“Don’t work at a bar Simon, that's not good.”

“Why?” Simon asks, before internally kicking himself for questioning his dad right now. 

“Because Simon.” His dad says desperately, and grabs at the collar of Simon’s shirt, bunching it up and pulling it closer. Simon wrinkles his nose, now being close enough to smell the alcohol and god knows what else he’s taken on Micke’s breath. “Don’t go near that shit. I don’t want you to go near that shit. That shit will fuck you up.”

“I don’t drink.” Simon replies.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” His dad asks, pulling Simon’s shirt collar so tight it’s nearly choking him. His dad doesn’t notice. “You don’t drink but you work at a bar? I’m not fucking stupid Simon.”

Simon exhales, trying to focus on using his calm voice. “I just work there because the nighttime hours work well with school, the tips are pretty good and it’s a really short walk there from my dorm.” 

Simon watches his dad and it’s like he heard none of what Simon just said. He probably is too shitfaced to comprehend it anyway. 

“Don’t get into that shit Simon. You’re too young. You’re good Simon. You’re so good, don't ruin everything.” Micke’s pawing at his face now and pleading. Simon swats his hands away.

“Do you get employee discounts?” Micke asks, letting go of Simon.

“I’m not fucking buying you booze!” Simon says, raising his voice more than he should, but sometimes he can’t fucking believe this shit. He came here to hopefully ease his nightmares by making better memories, and instead here he is making more bad ones.

Immediately, the bad goes to worse as he’s shoved against the wall roughly. 

“I didn’t ask you to buy me shit. I was just asking you a question,” he slurs at Simon. “You’re always thinking that about me. You and your mom. Always putting words in my mouth.”

“Don’t talk about her,” Simon spits back, glowering fiercely despite still being pinned against the wall. “Let me go.”

“Who do you think you are? I miss her too Simon I miss her too.” Micke’s hands are digging into his arms so roughly now that Simon’s sure there’s going to be bruises. 

“Let. Me. Go.” Simon tries again, trying desperately to remain calm. Finally, Micke must see the fear in Simon’s eyes because he lets go. Simon takes a sharp inhale and steadies his uneasy breathing. Micke’s still crowding him against the wall though. 

“Simon- I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I miss her. I miss her and you miss her too,” his father starts to get tears in his eyes but Simon doesn’t feel anything. Not sadness, not hurt, just nothing.

He tries to slip away from the wall and his father but Micke grabs hold of his wrist and pulls him back. 

“No. Wait! Simon don’t leave. Stay, please! Tell me why you came here!”

Simon tries to wrestle his arm free but his dad is stronger. Taking Simon’s silence and struggle as some sort of insult, he shoves Simon roughly backwards, throwing Simon off balance. Simon reaches out to grab onto anything, but misses the table and knocks an empty beer bottle onto the ground by accident. 

“So you just came here to mess with my shit?” Micke crouches down and starts picking up the bottle shards off the ground. Simon sees this as an opportunity and moves toward the door, hoping Micke won’t notice him.

“Stop,” Micke orders, and he’s holding a glass shard in his hand. Simon freezes in place, knowing Micke would never go that far, but how can he be sure? Micke pauses for a moment, looks at what he’s holding and puts it down. “Where’s Sara?”

“She umm.. she couldn’t make it today,” Simon explains, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. 

“Oh… tell her I’m sorry… Simon. Simon come here.” Micke starts walking toward him, almost like he’s going to give him a hug and Simon can’t move. Why can’t he move? It’s like every nightmare is rolling into one and paralyzing him where he stands. Micke reaches him and wraps him in a hug.

Simon, still frozen, doesn't register enough thought to hug him back. “I just want you not to hate me. I can be better Simon,” Micke says, weepy eyes into his shoulder. 

“Okay papa, I believe you.” Simon says, trying to sound sincere. “I have to leave now.”

“No, don’t leave Simon. Don’t leave me like her.” Micke’s hands dig into his shoulders and Simon’s panic rises again. He bear hugs Simon, squeezing him so tightly. Micke keeps hugging him tightly and Simon continues to try and squirm his way out, Micke’s drunk and erratic stumbling isn’t helping and all, and when Simon tries to fight to get free away a little harder the two of them tumble to the ground. Simon hits his ribs on the coffee table before landing hard on the ground. He feels a sharp stinging on his temple. Micke finally releases his grip and Simon registers that they’ve fallen almost into where the bottle had shattered, the remaining glass shards littered around them. Simon scrambles to stand and barely registers stepping over the debris on the ground before he is staggering onto a bench outside. 

The cold brings some feeling back to his body and he blinks repeatedly as his vision becomes clearer. His cheek feels hot despite the chill of the air and he reaches up with two fingers to touch the warmth. When he takes his fingers away and looks at them, there’s warm blood painted on them. He feels around until he presses against his temple, which sends a shock through his skull and makes him feel like he’s going to throw up. He waits a few moments for the pain to subside and tries again. This time he finds the source of the bleeding, which is a tiny cut on his temple. He almost laughs. It’s just a tiny cut no bigger than the size of his pinky nail. A piece of glass must have grazed him there. The blood has stopped dripping now and he stands up. Immediately he feels his side where he grazed the coffee table and fell on, throb. 

Simon stands still for many moments, waiting for the strange sensations to calm down. It’s going to be alright, he just needs to get home and clean up these cuts. Hopefully the bruising won’t be too bad and people won’t ask questions.

He starts heading toward his dorm, already coming up with a fake story if anyone he knows asks what happened, when he realizes that if he goes back to his dorm Sara, who notices god damn everything, will surely hear him and question him. And he’ll have no way to deny it and she’ll never forgive him. The evidence is written all over his face, literally. Ayub’s dorm is on the same floor as his and Sara’s, so that’s out. Rosh’s apartment is too far for him to walk if he keeps feeling this sharp pain in his side with every step, which leaves the closest place to go being… Willhelm’s apartment.

Chapter Text

Simon’s POV

As he walks toward Wilhelm’s place, the initial pain is starting to subside, allowing for more thoughts to filter through his brain like the realization of how terrible of an idea this is. He knows he shouldn’t go there, especially after everything. Wilhelm made it clear he doesn’t want him and now he’s going to go show up like this? But he’s kind of out of options here, and he wants to at least go somewhere safe for a moment to assess the damage before going home and being probably never forgiven by Sara.

The last thing he wants is for Wilhelm to see him like this, because for some fucking reason he still cares what he thinks but he finds himself stumbling to Wille’s apartment anyway, its location somehow burned into his memory despite only having been there once while dragging a very drunk Wilhelm. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the apartment door. It takes a few moments and then he hears footsteps coming closer. The door opens to a sleepy eyed Wilhelm, asking, “Simon?”

Wilhelm looks so surprised to see Simon that he looks as though he’s almost dreaming. Then he rubs the sleep from his eyes and really looks at Simon. Simon feels nauseous as he watches the realization and horror blanketing Wille’s face. “Oh my god Simon!? What happened?”

“Hi,” Simon says, going for cool but grimacing in pain slightly. “Can I use your bathroom really quickly?”

“Simon, I- What the fuck-?”

Simon just waits a moment before Wille opens his door wider and moves aside to let Simon in. Simon gets the same butterflies stepping into Wille’s apartment as he did the first time, but this time without the hope that Wille might like him back.

“Simon, what happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Who did this to you?”

“No one.”

“Simon.”

“That’s my name, yes.”

“Are you serious?”

Simon ignores him and starts heading toward the bathroom. 

‘Simon,” Wille says again and if he doesn’t stop saying his name like that, Simon will surely die. “Stop. Just- here- please sit down?” He says, pointing at his sofa.

Please, sit. The image of his father dragging him onto his couch worms its way into his brain. He feels a little weak all of a sudden and has to comply with Wille’s request for fear he’ll fall over if he doesn’t.

He sits down and avoids Wilhelm’s gaze, who is looking at him so hard that Simon’s sure Wille’s going to burn holes in his body. Simon doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, and Wilhelm looks like he doesn’t know what to say either, so they just sit in heavy silence. Simon’s head is hurting and so is his side. He really just wants to lay down on this couch, but he knows he shouldn’t, so instead he forces his eyes up to Wilhelm’s. There’s a dark, deep, concern burning in Wille’s eyes and Simon needs to get out of here right now before he lets himself believe that the way Wille’s looking at him means something. 

Simon had expected that Wilhelm would be concerned, any normal person would. But he hadn’t expected his reaction to be like this. He starts to stand up to leave, but he can’t help but wince as his ribs twinge slightly, and of course Wille notices.

“Wait wait. Simon, wait.” Wilhelm says frantically. “Just stay here for a little bit… please?”

Simon eyes him, weariness, confusion and then a flash of hurt from Wilhelm’s rejection crossing through his mind. “Why?”

“Because you’re hurt Simon!”

“I can see that.”

“Let me help.”

“Why?”

“Because there is a bruise, and a cut and literal blood on your face Simon!”

“Which I was going to use the bathroom to wash off but-” 

“-Because… because I care, okay? I care about you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said. And I know this is a really shitty apology and a really bad time for one- so I won’t do that right now- but I just… I just want to know you’re okay. Okay?”

All Simon can do is just look at him, and clearly that unsettles Wille so he continues rambling. “Shit, I shouldn’t have asked you to stay here. You can go if you want. It’s just- look at you! And I don’t want you to be alone and you’re hurt, probably more than you’re letting on. And I know I don’t deserve to, but please just let me take care of you?”

Please let me take care of you. Simon has his sister and his friends and he knows he’s lucky for that. But he hasn’t had anyone to take care of him, not in this way since… since his mom- 

It’s at this realization that Simon finally reaches his tipping point and the pressure builds up behind his eyes, tears threatening to fall. But Simon doesn’t cry. Not in front of people. And he doesn’t want to cry in front of Wilhelm. Wille probably already knows he’s broken and unfixable, but he doesn’t know just how broken Simon is. 

.

.

.

Wilhelm’s POV

Simon is sitting in front of him, his usual glowing tanned skin looking pale, with dried blood and a bruise blooming on his cheek, and seemingly trying not to cry with measured breathing. Wilhelm has never seen this Simon before and it’s shaking him to his core. He isn’t sure what to do but he can’t stop staring at Simon. As much as his chest is burning, he simply can’t tear his eyes away. Finally, Wilhelm becomes coherent enough again to at least get out the word, “Simon?”

“So you keep saying.” Simon says, blinking away all traces of his efforts to keep tears from falling and instead wearing a look of indifference and almost slight annoyance. Wille wants to ask what happened again, or why he’s here. But helping Simon is more important right now. 

“Can you walk?” Wille asks instead, wondering how he’s going to get Simon into the bathroom if he says no.

“Well I walked all the way here, didn’t I?” Simon asks with a teasing tone, but it falls flat and Wilhelm can hear the pain underlying his voice.

Wilhelm starts to reach out a hand to help Simon up, but thinks better of it and instead starts heading in the direction of the bathroom and Simon follows. Wilhelm turns to look at Simon as Simon enters the bathroom, his right hand holding his left abdomen. As soon as he notices Wilhelm watching, he immediately drops his hand. 

“Are princes not capable of using the bathroom alone?” Simon asks him, eyes that usually have a mischievous glint in them now looking dull. 

“I- what? Yes?” Wilhelm stammers, not knowing what Simon’s asking.

“Then why are we both in here?”

Oh, that’s what he was asking. He decides to answer Simon’s question with another question. “Why did you come here?”

Simon seems to catch on to this fast because he asks “why did you leave a note and a shirt saying you’re sorry outside my dorm?” 

And shit, Wilhelm doesn’t know how to respond to this so he just says “because…”

“Well then, ‘because…’ is my answer to your question too.” Simon says, and then it seems like the fight just leaves his body for a moment, because he brushes past Wilhelm and hoists himself up to sit on the large countertop. “Why does one person need two sinks?” He asks, and mutters “rich people.”

Wilhelm gives Simon a warning look and Simon just defiantly looks right back, clearly about to say something else. Wilhelm has finally had enough of Simon’s efforts to distract from the actual situation at hand, so he says with all the regal power that twenty one years of being a prince have given him “Simon, respectfully shut the hell up.”

Simon was clearly not expecting that, because Wilhelm watches as Simon inhales sharply and his eyes widen ever so slightly. Wilhelm opens and shuts various drawers, pulling out a towel and some antiseptic wipes. Simon’s eyes follow him around the room but he says nothing. Wilhelm dampens the towel in one of the sinks and steps closer to Simon. He reaches out the towel tentatively toward Simon’s face. He expects Simon to pull away or say something snarky at him again, but instead Simon makes no effort to move.

“Can I?” Wilhelm says softly into the space between them, careful not to break whatever circle of calm is barely surrounding them at this moment. Usually Simon is slightly shorter than Wilhelm, but Simon is a little higher up than Wilhelm now that he’s sitting on the counter.

Simon’s dark eyes stare down into Wilhelm’s own, flickering back and forth like he’s searching for something. He must find whatever it is he’s looking for because he nods, opening his legs a little bit more so Wilhelm can get close enough. Wilhelm steps into Simon’s space, not even registering the intimacy of this position because seeing Simon’s bruised and slightly bloody cheek so up close makes his stomach drop. He reaches out a finger and hovers it just above Simon’s cheek, not daring to touch it. Then he transfers the damp towel to his hand and gently pats at Simon’s cheek. He feels Simon wince slightly and he immediately mumbles, “sorry,” and looks back at Simon’s eyes that have never left his. He tears his gaze away to finish dabbing the red from Simon’s temple. He then throws the towel in the hamper and grabs an antiseptic wipe.

“This might sting a little, sorry.” Simon nods and once again allows Wilhelm to reach toward his face. When the wipe makes contact with the cut, Simon hisses a little and closes his eyes. Without thinking, Wilhelm brings his other hand to cradle the bottom of Simon’s jaw to comfort him, and to help keep him from moving. Simon stiffens slightly at the touch, but before Wilhelm can pull his hand away and apologize, he feels Simon relax and almost lean into it. 

Wille finishes cleaning the cut on Simon’s face and rakes his eyes over him once again, startled by how much more prominent the forming bruise looks now that there is no longer blood on Simon’s face to distract from it.

His eyes then trail down Simon’s neck and collarbone, until he reaches his shirt. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks.

Simon tilts his head down at his lap, then forces just his eyes to look up at Wilhelm. Wilhelm is mesmerized by the swirls of brown decorating Simon's eyes, long lashes dark fluttering the longer Wilhelm studies them. “No,” Simon responds immediately and Wilhelm doesn’t believe him for a second.

“Simon…”

“If we took a shot every time you’ve said my name in the last ten minutes, we’d be dead right now,” Simon replies, once again aiming for teasing. He shifts his weight slightly however, and his cocky expression falters for just a second, giving him away.

Wilhelm remembers Simon holding his side when he entered the bathroom, so he reaches out slowly, his hand aimed for the area of Simon’s left ribs. He hovers over the area, as if he’ll be able to feel if Simon’s injured there just by energy alone. 

“Are you hurt here?” Wille asks, hand still hovering over that area. Simon sighs and says “I’m fine. Thanks Wille, I have to go now though.”

He looks like he’s about to slide himself off of where he’s sitting on the counter, so Wilhelm instinctively finally stops his hand from hovering over Simon’s presumably injured side and he actually makes contact with it, just barely.

Simon winces a little, and reaches out with his own hand to grab his side as well, his hand knocking against Wille’s as he does so. 

“You’re full of shit Simon,” Wilhelm says gently.

“So I’ve been told,” Simon replies.

“Can I take a look at it, please?” Simon looks like he’s contemplating this a little too hard before he nods, so Wille asks again, not wanting to make Simon feel like he’s being forced to let Wilhelm help him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Wilhelm, I’m sure,” Simon says, appearing like he’s one step away from rolling his eyes, but the tender honesty of his voice gives away his true emotions. And of all the times Wille’s said Simon’s name tonight, this is the first time Simon’s said his. It sends a slight short circuit through his mind at the way his name sounds, rolling off of Simon’s tongue like sweet honey.

Wilhelm gently removes Simon’s fingers away from where they’re holding onto his side and places his hand gently back down onto the countertop, and Simon just lets him. He knows he doesn’t deserve Simon letting him be so gentle with him right now after the way he’d lied to Simon and told him he didn’t like boys, but he’s glad that for whatever grace of god that Simon’s allowing Wille to help right now. It’s clear that Simon needs it.

He slowly tugs the velvet fabric of Simon’s maroon dress shirt that he was most likely wearing to work at the bar. Did Simon get injured at work? But wouldn’t they help him there if he had? Did it happen on his way home? He bounces his eyes back and forth from Simon’s shirt to Simon’s face, looking for any signs that Simon is uncomfortable from Wille’s movements. When he finds none, just searching, infinite, dark eyes looking back at him, he pulls the shirt up more. Simon’s side is starting to blossom a bruise as well. 

“What happened here?” Wille asks, fingers tracing along where the bruise is starting to form all along the length of Simon’s left side. Simon shivers slightly.

“I fell.”

“You fell?”

“Mmm.”

“You fell on your side but also cut your head and bruised your cheek?”

“Yes.”

“Simon, that doesn’t make sense.”

“I didn’t ask you if it made sense.” Simon says acerbically and shifts away slightly. The fabric of Simon’s shirt falls from Wille’s fingers, shrouding the bruise once again. 

Simon turns toward the mirror and mutters a “fuck” under his breath, before sliding off the counter.

“What is it?” Wilhelm asks, still honestly wondering what the hell is even going on here.

“Nothing. I just don’t want my sister to get worried.”

“To get worried that you fell?”

“Yes.”

“Why would she be worried that you fell?” Wilhelm asks, ignoring the fact that he’s indeed also worried right now, which it turns out Simon does not hesitate to point out.

“Well you’re clearly worried about it.” Simon replies.

“That’s because I don’t believe that’s the truth,” Wilhelm responds, staring unblinkingly at Simon.

“Whatever,” Simon says, and opens the bathroom door, walking back into the living room, heading swiftly towards the door to leave. 

Wilhelm needs to apologize for being so harsh, he hadn’t meant to accuse Simon of lying like that, even if he believes that he is. But Simon is leaving so quickly that he reaches out to grab Simon’s hand and says, “Wait, please wait.”

Clearly, that was the wrong move, because Simon freezes and looks like he’s about to freak the fuck out. Every other time Wille’s seen Simon, he’s all cheeky glances and suggestive smirks, with confident and relaxed movements that have everyone’s eyes on him. But right now Simon looks like how Wille feels when he’s about to have a panic attack. He doesn’t know if that’s what’s happening but he decides to try the same methods he says in his head when he’s having one.

“Simon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe in with me.” Wilhelm takes an exaggerated breath in hopes that Simon will match him. When Simon thankfully does, Wille holds this breath for a moment before exhaling. Simon follows him and they simply breathe together for a few moments. 

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm begins with what is probably his hundredth apology for tonight, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Simon nods, and looks back toward the door, hesitating and Wilhelm remembers what Simon had mentioned about not wanting his sister to be worried. Was her name Sara? He’s trying to think back to their not-a-date lunch at the restaurant. “You’re worried about Sara seeing you like this?”

Simon’s shoulders lower a little bit, “yeah.”

“Just stay here then,” Wilhelm says, for once not regretting something he’s said on impulse. “It’s already really late Simon, and really dark out. What if you… fall again?”

Simon looks at the door again and then back at Wilhelm before saying, “okay.” 

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to borrow a pair of pajamas?” Wille asks.

“I’m okay.” Simon replies. 

“Are you sure? It’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe it isn’t to you, but it is to me.” Simon says to him strongly, and it’s the first non one or two word reply he’s gotten out of Simon since they were in the bathroom. It’s also not the reply he’d been expecting.

“What do you mean?” Wilhelm asks, but he’s starting to possibly understand what Simon’s getting at. Thankfully, Simon’s not one to shy away from saying what he means.

“I mean when we were together in my dorm Wilhelm.” And there goes the way Simon says his name sending electricity through his body again. “That might not have mattered to you but it mattered to me. And right now. This might not be a ‘big deal’ to you, but it is for me.”

“I never said it didn’t matter to me.” Wilhelm responds, voice shaking but words true. Simon seemed to accept this as enough for now, because he eventually accepts Wilhelm’s offer to borrow pajamas. 

They head into the bedroom and Wilhelm pulls open his dresser to grab a random shirt and sweats, tossing them to Simon. Wilhelm looks at the clock on his nightstand and isn’t surprised to see how late it is, given how exhausted he feels right now. “You can sleep here if you want, I’ll take the couch if that’s okay?” Wilhelm asks Simon.

Simon nods and Wille says “goodnight Simon.”

“Night Wille,” Simon says, before adding “thank you.”

“No need,” Wille responds and heads out the bedroom door and to the hallway. He turns around to pull the door shut, and as it’s almost closed he hears, “Wille?”

He opens the door again a little so he can look at Simon. Simon looks at him and then at the ground and says softly, “I didn’t just fall.” 

Knowing by now that Simon isn’t going to say more, Wilhelm nods in acknowledgement that he heard what Simon said, whispering, “sweet dreams Simon” as he closes the door. 

He lays awake on the couch for a long while, going through all the possibilities of what Simon’s words “ I didn’t just fall” could mean. He’s just about to finally fall asleep when he hears the sounds of restless tossing and turning coming from his bedroom. 

He gets up to go investigate, feet padding down the hallway and opens his bedroom door a crack.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

Wilhelm opens the door a crack and blinks his eyes to try and make out any shapes in the dark. His eyes finally focus enough to see a figure tossing and turning, mumbling something. He steps into the room tentatively and takes a few steps toward the bed. He can see Simon more up close now and his face eyebrows are woven together in distress. An indecipherable string of words coming out of his mouth that sound very much like pleas. 

It takes a moment for Wilhelm to realize that he can’t understand because Simon is speaking in Spanish. He doesn’t have to know what’s being said however to know that Simon is desperately pleading with someone or something.

“¡por favor deje de! ¡Déjame ir!” 

Simon’s sentence ends in almost a whimper and Wilhelm can’t take it any more. He has to stop this. “Simon?” He lets out, barely above a whisper. His voice, rough from laying on the couch in silence for the past hour or so, barely cutting through the thickness of the dark room.

Simon’s gripping at the blanket and his face is contorted into a look of pain. “Simon.” Wilhelm tries again louder, this time reaching out toward where Simon is grasping the blanket between his knuckles.

The second Wilhelm says his name and makes contact with Simon’s hand, Simon jerks awake with a gasp, sitting up and pulling his hand away.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m sorry.”

Simon seems to be starting to catch his breath as he just stares at Wilhelm. “What? Oh. Wait. No, I’m sorry. I-, are you okay?” Simon asks.

Wilhelm can’t help but let out a surprised laugh at that. “Am I okay? I’m fine, are you okay?”

Simon nods, stoically. “Mm yeah I’m fine.”

Wilhelm sighs. So they’re back to this again. Back to the place where Wilhelm can tell that Simon is clearly not fine and where Simon pretends like he is. And honestly, it scares him how good Simon is at it. How he woke up gasping for breath a second ago and now is sitting on the bed with an arm propped up on a bent knee, looking like a magazine cover model, with an indifferent expression on his face. It’s unfair how good he looks right now… and it’s also unnecessary.

“Were you having a nightmare?” Wilhelm asks, trying a different approach possibly.

“No.” Simon says, and sue Wilhelm for getting frustrated but it’s 2:30 in the morning, Wilhelm has had a long night and now Simon is clearly lying to his face.

“Oh come on Simon!” Wilhelm says, and Simon’s mask of emotionlessness slips a little bit into a frown. “I literally just woke you up from a nightmare that I saw you having, and you’re gonna keep this up anyway?”

Simon looks away from Wilhelm then, and Wille can’t help but marvel at how chiseled Simon’s profile looks bathed in just the moonlight coming from the window. It looks like he’s carved from marble.

Simon looks back at him then and his expression is different. It looks like he’s making the choice whether or not to tell Wilhelm what he’s thinking. It seems like he makes the decision Wilhelm’s hoping for because he says,

“I’m sorry. I did have a nightmare. It’s just-“ he sighs, “it’s just that I didn’t really want you to see me having one I guess.”

“Why?” Wille can’t help but ask.

“Because they’re childish and stupid.” Simon replies like it’s obvious. And Wilhelm immediately remembers the way that the boy had told Simon something similar in the dorm building when they were studying.

“Look just because that Anders guy decided to be an ass and say those things doesn’t make them true.”

“Oh right,” Simon says, “I forgot you heard that conversation too. Excellent.” He deadpans.

“Who was that anyway?” Wille asks, and immediately wants to kick himself. It’s late and his filter seems to be gone, but dammit he shouldn’t ask these things to Simon right now. Not when Wille has somehow found himself now sitting on the foot of the bed, watching Simon who is sitting in Wilhelm’s bed. Of all the ways that he’s imagined Simon being in his bed, none of them were like this. 

“It was no one, just some guy.”

Wilhelm nearly can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at Simon’s dishonest answers again. “Just some guy who’s kinda an asshole which doesn’t seem like your type.” 

“Oh?” Simon asks, seeming surprised and a little offended. “Because you would know exactly what my type is then?” 

And Wilhelm realizes that he’s accidentally let his jealousy speak harshly for him and he regrets it a little, but at least he finally got to be honest, and he can’t back down now so he just nods.

Simon looks at him for a moment before saying, “I think you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, it seems like assholes are exactly my type.”

Wilhelm flinches at Simon’s caustic words. He deserved that though. For breaking things off with him and then making comments he didn’t deserve to be making on someone Simon slept with. He needs to apologize again.

“Simon, I’m sorry.” He says, searching for Simon’s eyes, but only finding the outline of his back and curls illuminated by the moonlight, Simon having turned away from him again. “That was dumb of me to say that.”

Simon’s silent for a minute and Wille’s afraid he’s made things even worse. Then Simon’s reply surprises Wille, still leaving his back to Wilhelm however and Wille desperately misses Simon’s face, preferring to be able to read Simon’s expressions, even when they weren’t necessarily thrilled ones. “I’m sorry too… You’re not an asshole Wilhelm.”

And Wilhelm didn’t know how much he needed to hear that confession from Simon until it feels like the weight of an entire planet has been lifted off his shoulders. If all else fails, at least he knows that Simon doesn’t hate him. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he did in fact deserve to be called one. “No, you’re kinda right. I am kinda an asshole.”

Simon shifts around then, looking at Wilhelm again. This time with a more open expression, his dark eyes glistening in the dark room, and shakes his head. “You have a right to your feelings. They’re valid. I guess I just made it out to be more than it was in my head. And that’s my fault. I shouldn’t be acting so cold to you when you haven’t really done anything wrong. And you even let me stay overnight here despite me being that way. So no, you’re definitely not an asshole Wille.”

Hearing his nickname finally fall from Simon’s lips as well as Simon’s words makes his chest flutter. Despite all his ministrations trying to convince himself he didn’t, he does have feelings for this boy. And he’d promised Erik that he’d tell Simon the truth. “Maybe I’m not,” Wilhelm starts, taking a breath to steady himself before continuing, “but I did lie. When I said that I didn’t like boys I mean. It wasn’t true.”

Simon blinks up at him, looking soft in the way Wille’s pajamas are too big on him. “Then why…?” Simon trails off his question.

“I got scared,” Wilhelm answers honestly, just as Erik told him was all he could do. “I got scared and I didn’t know what to do and I figured the easiest thing was to just… do that.”

“Scared why?” Simon asks, and Wilhelm should have known that question was coming. And the answer to that is a long one, one that Wille doesn’t even have all figured out yet, so he says,

“I don’t know. A lot of reasons I guess. It’s just…” he doesn’t know where he’s going with that statement so he changes the topic instead. “What was your nightmare about?”

“I don’t want to answer that.” Simon replies, but it’s less of a cold reply this time, and more of just a fact. And at least this time he’s being honest, so Wille accepts his answer with a nod. 

“Does it have to do with why you came here all…” Wilhelm gestures vaguely in the dark room, referring to the condition Simon had arrived in.

“I don't really want to answer that either,” Simon says again, before then admitting with a sigh, “but yeah. It is.”

Wilhelm nods again, not knowing quite what else there is to say. He wants to tell Simon more. To tell him that he was scared but he doesn’t want to be. That he wants to try. That he wants Simon to let him try if Simon wants it too. But the clock is now nearing 3:00 am and this isn’t the time for it. 

“Well,” Wilhelm says, starting to stand up. “It’s really late so we should probably both get to bed.” If Wille didn’t know any better, or if it wasn’t so dark that he can’t see very well, he might have said that Simon almost looked sad for a moment to see him leave.

“Was I that loud that I woke you up?” Simon asks.

“Having a nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“No, don’t worry. I was awake anyway.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I’m not used to the couch.” Wille lies, not telling Simon that he was awake worrying about him.

“Oh. Sorry for you having to sleep there.”

“It’s fine,” Wilhelm replies, heading toward the door.

“Your stupid bed paid for by tax payer dollars is too big anyway, we can both fit here if that works better.” 

“Oh. Um. Alright,” Wille says, stumbling over his reply. He slowly pulls down the sheets and blanket on the side of the bed opposite Simon while Simon unfurls the part that he twisted up while tossing around during his nightmare. Speaking of which, “if you have any more nightmares, is it better if I wake you up or if I just leave you alone?” He asks.

And by Simon’s momentary surprise, it seems like that isn’t a question he gets asked often. “Wake me up I guess,” Simon replies, and then a softer “thanks Wille.”

“Mm,” hums in reply, letting his head hit the pillow. Simon lays down facing the opposite direction. He can feel the heat under the covers from Simon, as well as smell Simon’s scent. He lets both of them wrap around him in the comfort of the dark, knowing that he probably doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve Simon to be this close to Simon. Doesn’t deserve to be the one waking him up from nightmares. And the nightmare was connected to why he showed up here with blood and bruises? What happened to him? It had to be someone that did this because just falling and hitting your head or something didn’t give you nightmares like this, right? And would he have another one tonight? Would Wille have to do as he said and wake him up from it? Would-“

“Wilhelm your thoughts are so loud that I can hear them from over here. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” Wilhelm replies instantly. 

“I’m just messing with you,” Simon says in return. He feels Simon shifting around and flip himself over, now being face to face with Wilhelm. He clearly didn’t expect Wilhelm to also be facing this way, because he lets out a laugh at their close proximity and says “oh hi.”

“Hi,” Wilhelm responds, taking in all of Simon’s beauty from this up close. He realizes it’s probably weird to be staring at Simon like this so he closes his eyes abruptly which makes Simon let out an amused snort. Embarrassed, Wilhelm keeps his eyes closed but he can’t help the small smile that forces its way onto his lips. 

When it feels like enough time has passed and he’s sure that Simon’s probably shut his eyes to sleep as well, Wille opens his to find that he severely miscalculated. Simon is still laying the same way, eyes meeting his. Wille feels himself go pink, but Simon just smiles a cheeky smile at him before turning to lay on his back and looking up at the ceiling. 

Wilhelm attempts to take control of the situation by saying “are you watching me while I sleep Simon? That’s creepy.”

He’s not prepared for Simon to reply, still looking up at the ceiling, “So what if I was.”

Wilhelm’s pink flush spreads across his face and neck and he feels too flustered to speak. Dammit. How does Simon always do that to him so easily? 

“Shut up,” Wille mutters and flops over to smush his face into his pillow. It isn't long after that sleep washes over him. 

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

Wille wakes up slowly, blinking the sleep away. As his eyes adjust to the room being filled with morning light, he realizes that he’s far too warm. A lot warmer than he usually is in the morning. He finally registers the scent of coconut and citrus and something that is just Simon. A scent that was once unfamiliar to him the last time he found himself in this position, but now one that he is quickly becoming familiar with. He turns his head to look at Simon, who seems to have shifted slightly closer to Wille in his sleep, and who’s hand is draped lightly onto Wille’s stomach, his head almost touching Wille’s shoulder. 

He can’t help but smile at how peaceful and angelic Simon looks right now. Usually his face is composed of all sculpted lines and beautiful, hard edges. But now, in the soft morning light, Simon’s warm skin looks as if it’s glowing, made of sunshine just like him, and the worried lines that had settled into Simon’s expression last night are nowhere to be found. Wille is suddenly hit with the thought that he wouldn’t mind looking at Simon like this forever. Now who’s the creepy one staring at the other in their sleep? Wilhelm can’t help but laugh at himself inside his head. He’d happily stay here infinitely, but his stomach betrays him and growls loudly under Simon’s fingers. Simon lets out a groan in his sleep which shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. Wilhelm looks over at the clock, and no wonder he’s so hungry, it’s nearly 3 hours after he usually wakes up. 

Reluctantly, he shifts away from Simon slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning to look back at Simon to make sure he’s still asleep. He stands up and heads to the kitchen to go make breakfast.

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Simon’s POV

The first thing Simon realizes when he wakes up is that he’s just… waking up. Like he was asleep. And now he’s waking up, not gasping awake for breath because of a nightmare. The second thing Simon realizes is that he did in fact have a nightmare last night, and that Wilhelm was unfortunately a witness to it. That leads to the third thing he realizes, which is that Wilhelm is not currently in this bed. 

He looks around the room in search of the boy, who’s nowhere to be found. His eyes do find the clock on the nightstand which reads 12:00 pm. Holy shit, it’s noon?! He slides out of bed and creaks Wilhelm’s door open, pulling the oversized sleeves of Wilhelm’s hoodie over his fingers. He hears typing on a keyboard and follows the soft tapping into the open living room and kitchen area. 

Wilhelm is dressed for the day, pushing his golden hair repeatedly out of his eyes in an endearing way as he types on the laptop, intently looking at the screen. 

“Hey,” Simon says into the otherwise quiet apartment. Wilhelm’s head whips to the side to look at him, startled a little by the noise before a soft smile comes over his face which makes Simon return one of his own.

“Hey,” Wilhelm returns his greeting, “did you sleep okay?”

Simon can’t help but laugh a little at this, “considering that it’s noon I’m gonna have to say that’s most likely a yes.”

“Good. I um-,” Wilhelm starts again, going back to the way he usually trips over his words, which Simon can’t help but find incredibly endearing, “I made some pancakes if you want some. I was gonna wait for you to eat, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be asleep, and I figured you probably needed the rest, and so I already ate- anyways. Um. Yes. Pancakes. Over on the counter.”

Simon chuckles a little and says, “thanks,” watching as a pink blush dusts itself across Wille’s cheeks. As he eats a pancake he pushes away the thought that if Wille wasn’t so “scared” as he had put it, that he’d like to make that blush appear on Wille’s cheeks much more often. 

Speaking of which, he’s probably crossed a boundary of how much he’s invaded Wille’s personal space in the last 24 hours. Despite them being a little more honest with each other last night, and Simon’s feelings of hurt from Wille’s rejection having faded at the gentle way Wille’s hands tended to his cuts and bruises, he still doesn’t know where they stand, and he doesn’t want to make Wilhelm more scared than he already is. Wille’s worried expression last night when Simon had woken up from his nightmare was more than enough. Not only that, but Wilhelm’s scared of who he is. Wille clearly doesn’t know what he wants, and Simon doesn’t want to be caught in the middle of it. He’s just not strong enough for that.

After years of being told off by Sara for not doing it, he needs to take her advice and put himself first for once. It doesn’t matter how much he still likes Wilhelm, he can’t be his experiment. “Thank you Wille,” he starts, “you didn’t have to do all this for me, I’m sorry for showing up here in the middle of the night like that.” 

Wilhelm’s getting his concerned expression on his face again and Simon immediately feels the need to prevent it. “It was fun being in your pants though.” He watches Wilhelm’s jaw drop and face go red before he says “literally,” and gestures toward Wilhelm’s sweatpants that he’s currently wearing. He sees Wille instantly understand what he meant but the redness doesn’t leave his face.

“Speaking of which,” Simon continues, holding out the pocket of the borrowed sweatshirt “I should probably head out so where do you want me to put these?” 

“You can just put them on the bed, I’ll take care of them.” Wilhelm answers, “but are you leaving?”

“Yeah, I have a shift later tonight, the bar opens earlier on Saturdays, and I should probably go back and grab my stuff first. I need to do some homework and check in with Sara,” he checks his phone. “I have like a hundred texts from her.”

“Oh, okay,” Wilhelm says, obviously chewing on more words but not being willing to spit them out. 

“Whatever you’re going to say, could you just say it, Your Highness?” Simon retorts. Wilhelm’s face goes red again and he finally asks,

“Are you sure you want to go to work today?”

“Why?”

“Well. Uh, I don’t know. I guess everything that happened?”

And of course Simon’s not looking forward to going to work with a red cut on his temple and a massive bruise on his cheek, but his side has thankfully stopped hurting despite the large bruise turning purple there. “Some of us actually need to work Wilhelm,” he replies, and kicks himself for his defense mechanisms always being to either drop innuendos or insults. Wilhelm let him stay in his bed and even made him breakfast, he doesn’t deserve Simon’s attitude. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he adds as quickly as possible.

“It’s okay.” Wilhelm says, “it’s just… are you sure you’re okay to go?”

“I’ve done more with worse,” 

“What do you mean you’ve done more with worse?” Wilhelm asks, eyes searching him with worry. And fuck what is it about this boy that makes Simon always say more than he intends to? For some reason he wants to tell him everything. Normally he says as little as possible to anyone, just lets his personality and looks speak for him until he gets what he needs. Even his best friends don’t know every part of his story. 

“Nothing, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I can’t be on the news for causing the Prince of Sweden a heart attack. Anyway, I got to go.”

Wilhelm remains flustered for only a moment before he calls out “wait wait wait. What time do you get off work tonight?”

“Why?” Simon asks, really not knowing where Wilhelm is going with this.

“So I can make sure that you get home safe.”

“Wille, I told you I didn’t get hurt from work or from going home from work.” 

Wilhelm nods, and then asks what time he gets off work again. Simon sighs, not having it in him to argue, and tells Wilhelm before exiting the apartment.

* * *

Simon knows that he’s going to have to face Sara eventually, and he doesn’t want to worry her any further, so he texts her back saying that he’s fine, and he’ll be home soon. He’s hoping that she won’t be there when he gets back, but of course, when he opens the door to his dorm room she’s there sitting on his bed.

“I swear I’m gonna revoke your having-a-key-to-my-room privileges,” he jokes, hoping to start them off on the right foot. This attempt proves to be futile when Sara immediately interrupts him saying,

‘Where have you been, and-” he sees the moment she registers the bruise painting his face, “Oh my god Simon! What happened to you?”

“I-” He starts to answer, but Sara doesn’t give him the chance to get any words out.

“Oh my god did Micke do this?” She all but shouts, leaping off the bed and coming closer to him.

“Not… directly?”

“Are you fucking serious Simon? You went to see him? Why? What the actual fuck?”

“He was doing better Sara! I went to see him a couple other times and it was fine, it was okay!” Simon is nearly shouting now as well, “he was sober all the other times and it was nice to actually feel like I had a parent for a little while, so excuse me for wanting to possibly fix what little of our family we have left!”

“That’s your problem Simon! You’re always trying to fix everything! You always think that everyone is good and they’re not, even if they seem like it in the beginning. How many people are going to screw you over before you learn that?” 

Simon’s chest burns at her words, hitting him too close to home. “At least I try to get close to people, Sara! Instead of pretending to be someone I’m not with all the rich girls at the university.” Sara recoils a little bit, and he instantly regrets saying that to her, but that regret disappears when she fires back,

“You try to get close to people? Is that what you tell yourself Simon? Then how come I don’t know one name of any of these people who’s places you come back from? Or how come you never told me the name of this guy you really liked? Is it because he screwed you over too and you just don’t want to admit it to me?”

And Simon doesn’t even know how to respond to that, so he grabs his bag and what he needs for work in silence and leaves. Sara doesn’t try to say anything more to him either. 

He goes into the bathroom stall to change, and realizes as he goes to pull his shirt off that it’s not his shirt. It’s Wilhelm’s sweatshirt. In his haste to leave after Wilhelm had started questioning him he’d forgotten to take it off. Shit. Now he’s going to have to return it at some point, and the sweatpants too. As he pulls off the sweatshirt, Wille’s scent is wrapped around him and for a moment everything feels calm. Before Sara’s words worm their way into his brain. You always think that everyone is good and they’re not, even if they seem like it in the beginning. He shakes the thought out of his head as he finishes changing, putting on dark jeans that are ripped at the knee, a loose black button down shirt with vertical beige and white stripes, a leather jacket on top, and his two favorite black heart necklaces and earrings. Wille’s not like that, it’s not the same. 

Maybe he’s being an idiot like Sara says and giving someone more chances than he should, but it just feels different with Wille. He knows that Wille doesn’t have things figured out right now, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t help Simon when he showed up late at his apartment, and it doesn’t mean that Wilhelm doesn’t get an adorable flush on his face every time Simon says something remotely flirty. Maybe it’s better to put your heart out there with the possibility of it being broken, than keeping it locked away like Simon’s been doing all these years. The problem is that there’s a reason he’s kept his heart so guarded. It’s that he doesn’t know if his heart can take being broken again. Are there even enough pieces of it left to break?

* * *

His shift at the bar is finally coming to an end and thank god, because it’s been a long and tiring one. Saturday nights are always the most busy and the most work, and on top of his fight with Sara he’s feeling pretty worn out. So worn out that he doesn’t even remember Wilhelm’s request to walk him home until he steps outside the bar and sees a certain prince sitting on the bench outside, looking down at his phone, and Simon’s heart squeezes and stomach flips just a little at the sight of him. It’s the fact that his heart had that reaction simply just seeing Wilhelm, without Wilhelm even noticing him yet that Simon understands keeping his heart guarded where no one can see it isn’t an option anymore. 

Wille must feel Simon’s eyes on him because he looks up from his phone and instantly smiles when he sees Simon. And Simon tries very hard to keep from matching Wille with an idiot grin of his own.

“Hey,” Simon begins, “what are you doing here?” He asks, even though he already knows.

“I told you,” Wilhem says, “because I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“And I told you that I would be fine, and this,” he gestures to the bruise on his ribs and face, “has nothing to do with it.” He says in a playful way, finding that he just likes giving Wilhelm a hard time, and making him at a loss for words. This time however, Wilhelm seems to have come prepared, because it’s his response that is the one to leave one of them speechless.

“Well maybe I just wanted to walk with you, Simon.” 

Simon swallows, and Wilhelm seems pleased with himself. Simon needs to say something because he can’t just let Wilhelm look this smug forever, so he holds out the bag containing Wilhelm’s clothes and says, “here, these are yours, I took them by accident.”

“Oh, thanks.” Wilhelm replies, back to his awkward self and takes the bag from Simon. As they continue walking, Simon keeps wondering more and more of what Wille’s intentions are. He finally decides it’s best that he just be upfront and asks, “Wille, what is it exactly that you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you, I just want-” and Simon swears to god that the universe really is against him because at the exact moment Wilhelm is about to finish his sentence he gets interrupted by rain dropping from the sky, escalating quickly into a complete downpour. Isn’t that just poetic . Simon wishes he could write as well as the poets in all the poems he has memorized and can recite, because if he could, surely there would be some metaphor in this situation that would make for an excellent sonnet. 

“Come on!” Wille shouts over the sound of the rain, “my apartment is way closer than the school, let’s wait out the rain there! We’ll be drenched before we make it to yours!”

As if they aren’t already drenched. Wilhelm holds out a hand to him, palm up, and Simon hesitates for a moment before taking it. The instant he does, Wille starts to run in the direction of his apartment and Simon lets himself be dragged after him. He doesn’t want to go back home and face Sara, and his body has some sort of magnetic pull to Wilhelm that he can’t break. The two boys run through the night and through the rain, hands interlocked.

* * *

As Wille unlocks the apartment door, both boys sipping wet and dripping onto the floor, Wille lets out a laugh.

“What?” Simon asks him, turning to look at him with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Nothing, I just realized that this is the third time you’ve come here out of some strange situation, me being high, us running from rain, and I’m wondering what the hell the next time is going to be? I mean am I going to have a heart attack or something?”

Simon giggles back, “Oh so I’m going to give you a heart attack, my prince?”

“I-“ Wilhelm stands there, avoiding Simon’s eye contact. He tries to get the key into the lock but keeps failing, and Simon laughs at just how flustered Wilhelm is right now. He can’t help it.

“And are you so sure there’s going to be a next time? I suppose you better make this one count then.” Simon says wistfully, trying to hide his smirk. Wilhelm coughs a little, going completely red, and finally gets the lock into the doorknob and opens the apartment. Simon’s not sure what he’s aiming at, saying all these things to Wille. He knows he should probably stop, but he can’t help it. Maybe he should. He should stop. Wilhelm invited him here to wait out the rain, not to have Simon flirt with him. 

Suddenly a hand on his arm pulls him out of his thoughts, and he’s being tugged into the kitchen. “You’re dripping on my rug,” Wilhelm says with an amused tone.

“Oh sorry my bad,” Simon replies, pushing down the far more explicit joke that has shoved its way to the front of his mind. 

“Let me go grab some towels, one sec.”

Simon waits in the kitchen for a moment before Wilhelm returns with towels. He isn’t sure if it’s the rain causing his body to ache a bit more, but as he bends down to pull off his wet shoes and socks, he squishes the fading bruise on his side, and winces ever so slightly. It didn’t really hurt at all, but it just surprised him more than anything.

And of course, Wilhelm who has the lightest footsteps known to man has chosen that exact moment to re-enter the room holding a pile of folded towels in his arms.

“Simon, are you okay?” He asks immediately.

“Oh I’m fine, don’t worry. I just forgot my side was bruised and I bent over the wrong way.” He goes to take off his shoes and socks again, this time bending over in the opposite direction. This position hurts his side too slightly, but not as much. When he gets one off, he looks up to see Wille’s eyes unwavering on him, before saying,

“Simon let me help.”

And screw Simon’s little gay heart for not having the strength to protest. He just complies as Wille tells him to sit on a bar stool at the kitchen counter and holds his breath as Wilhelm kneels down to gently slide one shoe off of his foot, and then the other.

“Who would have thought that me! A mere commoner boy! Would be sitting on a bar stool throne while His Royal Highness of Sweden kneels at my feet.”

Wilhelm laughs and so does Simon when Wilhelm stands up and slaps at his arm with one of the wet socks. 

“Ahh, Wilhelm, that's cold!” Simon laughs and Wille replies,

“As if we’re not already wet and freezing Simon!”

This time Simon can’t stop himself from making a joke about that. It’s not his fault that Wilhelm set him up for it perfectly twice! 

Wilhelm covers his face with one of his hands and shoves at Simon’s shoulder with the other. “Shut up Simon!” The two boys continue laughing and start to shiver. Wilhelm strips off his soaked shirt quickly and wraps a dry towel around himself, Simon doing the same. As he reaches for a towel however, he can feel Wilhelm’s eyes on his abdomen, where the bruise is healing. Simon knows from experience that bruises usually look a lot worse than they feel, and that they get more purple as they’re healing. He dries off his upper body, trying to shield the bruise from Wille’s vision as he does so. Wilhelm’s eyes flicker to the cut that’s almost healed and the bruising on his cheek instead, before his gaze flits around the other bruises on Simon’s arm, the side he’d landed on.

“Simon,” Wilhelm’s voice sounds rough, “you didn’t tell me you were hurt here too.” Wille reaches out gentle fingers, fingertips ghosting over where the bruises on his arm are without actually touching him. Simon can feel the magnetic pull anyway, which sends an imperceptible shiver throughout his body.

“I’m not. I can’t even feel it. I didn’t even know it was there.” Wilhelm’s eyes find his, and Simon’s breath hitches at how close to each other they are. A droplet of water falls from Wille’s wet hair, and Simon reaches out to brush it away from Wille’s face with his thumb. After doing so, Wilhelm takes a moment to break out of what seems like a trance and says,  “We should go put on dry clothes.” Simon nods and follows Wille into his bedroom once again. It’s starting to become almost familiar at this point. How do they keep ending up here?

Wilhelm throws him a dark blue hoodie with an orange Ralph Lauren horse logo on it, and a pair of gray sweatpants. “Is this the second hoodie of mine you’re going to steal?” Wilhelm asks and Simon feels like his skin is buzzing from Wilhelm’s out of the blue confidence.

Continuing Wille’s joke from earlier Simon replies, “well if the fourth time I’m here is because you’re having a heart attack, I might feel a little bit guilty about stealing your things.”

“So you admit you’re stealing them.”

“Maybe.”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes with a fond expression, grabbing his own set of dry clothes. “I’m gonna go make some tea or something and change. It doesn’t look like the rain has stopped yet.” Wilhelm steps out of the room, change of clothes in hand.

Oh, the rain. Simon had forgotten entirely about the rain. It feels like when the two of them are together time is altered, like it doesn’t pass at all. He looks out Wille’s bedroom window and sees that it’s still raining. He doesn’t really know what to do with the fact that he’s relieved it’s still raining. He just feels safe here. Safe from people who will yell at him and shove him against walls, safe from the judgment of his sister who he knows deep down just wants him to be okay, safe from the scoffs and comments from those at school whose fathers come with million acre estates. He strips out of his dampened jeans, pulling as hard as he can to wrench himself free from the way they’re almost glued to his skin from the water.

When he finally gets himself free, he puts on Wille’s sweatshirt and sweatpants. The pants and sweatshirt are too big on him so he rolls the waistband over itself to make them shorter, and pulls the sleeves of the sweatshirt over his hands. His bones are still chilled from the cold of running through the rain so he pulls the hood over his head before padding out back towards the kitchen where he figures Wille is.

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Wilhelm’s POV

He’s just setting down two mugs filled with the tea he’s just made when he hears Simon enter the room. Wille can’t help the look of adoration and small laugh that forces its way on his face when he looks at Simon. Because Simon looks absolutely adorable . His fitted shirt, ripped jeans and leather jacket that made Wilhelm able to feel his heartbeat double its pace are now replaced with Simon wandering into the kitchen, looking tiny in Wilhelm’s clothes that are too big for him. He has the sweatshirt hood pulled up over his head, but a stray curl is peeking out adorably. His hands are wrapped in the material of the sweatshirt and he’s just looking at Wilhelm with an expression that is pretending to be annoyed.

“What Wil-helm?” Simon says, separating the syllables of his name with fake indignance. “What are you laughing at?”

“You,” Wilhelm says, trying to keep a straight face.

“Yes, I know that I am indeed a sight to behold, many come and admire from afar. But may I ask what exactly it is that you’re laughing at.”

“You just look cute like that,” Wilhelm says, allowing himself to say exactly what he’s thinking for once.

Simon’s eyes widen a little and whatever else he had been planning to say dies on his lips. Wille can’t help but feel proud of himself for being the one to leave Simon not knowing what to say for once. Usually it’s the other way around, and Wilhelm can’t say he minds being under Simon’s power. But there’s something about this . Seeing Simon blushing and wearing his clothes that he knows he’ll see in his daydreams. 

“You made tea,” Simon states, walking closer to where Wilhelm is standing. “What kind?”

“Peppermint.”

“Peppermint?” Simon says, shocked like the peppermint tea has personally offended him. 

“Do you have a problem with peppermint tea Simon?” Wille asks, laughing at Simon’s expression.

“No. I have a problem with the people who like peppermint tea! You are a disgrace. I must warn the people of Sweden!”

“Warn them of what?” Wilhelm is giggling even harder now and enjoying watching how hard Simon is fighting to keep a straight face.

“Warn them that their Prince is a peppermint tea enthusiast! And who knows what else you’re hiding. For all we know you could also be a pineapple pizza fan.” 

Wilhelm makes a face and Simon’s smile is positively blinding. Wilhelm would gladly make a fool of himself every single moment of every day if it meant that there would be a smile like this on Simon’s face. “Oh my god!” Simon says, completely failing from pretending to be upset, and laughing instead. “You are a pineapple pizza fan! Oh god!”

“Pineapple on pizza is good Simon! You have no taste!”

“Excuse me! Who picked out the delicious meal for you at the restaurant because you couldn’t read the menu! I didn’t hear you complaining about my food choices then!”

“Fine fine,” Wilhelm says, pretending to sadly admit defeat. “You win.”

“Well…” Simon says, and Wille is in love with the twinkling of Simon’s eyes right before he recalls this memory. “When I was little, I used to always put ketchup on my pasta.”

“Oh I soooo take it back! You do not win this one! That is a crime Simon!” 

“Okay, fine, you know what? Here, a truce.” Simon picks up one of the tea mugs and holds it out to Wilhelm’s, clinking their mugs together before taking a sip. He makes a scrunched up face of disgust and says, “nope. Still a hard nope.”

Wilhelm laughs at Simon’s expression. “Wow, I can’t believe you come into my apartment, steal my clothes and then insult the drink I made you. Talk about me being the spoiled royal one.”

Simon’s laugh is warm and wraps around Wilhelm like sunshine. He feels the happiness of making Simon laugh all the way down to his toes. “First of all, you offered me these clothes, and second of all you invited me here!”

Wilhelm watches Simon’s face that was glowing with laughter dim a little bit. The sparkling mirth in his eyes turns to something almost timid, and Wilhelm desperately wonders what he’d said wrong.

“Wille?” Asks Simon, his voice quieter and not as strong as before. “Speaking of which, why did you invite me here? And I know it’s not really because of the rain. We were both already soaked anyway.”

Still being afraid to put all his feelings out there into the world for everyone to see, for Simon to see, Wille asks instead, “If you know that, then why did you let me take you here anyway?”

And fuck, despite his soft curls having dried frizzy and even more curly from the rain, and being wrapped up in an oversized sweatshirt, Simon still looks strong, beautiful, and fierce. His eyes have a blazing determination in them all of a sudden and Wilhelm is hypnotized. 

“Because,” Simon says, clenching his jaw in a way that is so attractive, Wille wants to trace it with his fingers, “I like you Wilhelm.” Wilhelm’s heart lurches and he almost falls off the stool. “I like you a lot. And I think you know that. And I know you said you were scared and that you lied, and I don’t really know what that means. But Wille, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’d rather you just tell me though. I’m not going to be upset, I promise with whatever you say, as long as it’s the truth.”

Simon is looking at him so openly, so honestly, that Wilhelm wishes he could give him the whole world. He deserves it. Wille puts down his mug and reaches out to Simon’s hand, an open invitation. Simon looks down at Wilhelm’s open palm on the counter and places his hand in his. Wille feels his whole body go warm and he immediately says. “I really like you too Simon.”

“Really?” Simon says, looking back up at him with eyes that are searching his. Another curl has fallen onto his forehead from where it’s been contained under the sweatshirt hood.

“Really.” Wilhelm replies, reaching out with his other hand to brush the curl behind Simon’s ear. He watches as the light and the playful mischief return to Simon’s eyes with the touch, but it doesn’t quite reach the rest of his face and Wilhelm knows he needs to say more. “I’ve just never liked a boy before the way I like you, or liked anyone the way I like you. And I’m sorry that I was insecure about what I wanted before, and for lying and saying that I didn’t like you because of it. But I do. I really fucking do. I just wasn’t sure of how people would react, especially because of who I am, but you changed everything and I really like-”

“-Wilhelm,” Simon says, cutting him off. “Can I please kiss you right now?”

Every word that Wilhelm has ever known has left him. All he can do is nod vigorously and lean toward Simon, who’s leaning in closer to him in return. He reaches up and pushes the hood of the sweatshirt off of Simon’s head, revealing the beautiful short curls underneath. Wille traces his fingers through Simon’s hair, brushing past his ear and over the bruise on his cheek, then tracing his sharp jaw just like he’d wanted to earlier. Simon’s breath hitches and Wilhelm can’t control himself any longer. He leans in almost all the way, letting Simon be the one to make the decision. Immediately, Simon closes the gap between them, softly pressing his lips to Wilhelm’s. 

It starts out light, just barely the ghosting traces of kisses being given and received by one another. Simon tastes like warmth, mischief, and peppermint tea. The angle is slightly difficult as they both balance on their own stool chairs, and Simon laughs an airy, twinkling laugh when Wille hoists him up so he’s sitting on the kitchen countertop with Wilhelm standing between his legs. It’s the same position that they had been in when Wilhelm was tending to Simon’s when he was hurt, but this time everything is different. Instead of feeling the unnerving tension around them, Wille feels the beautiful tension between them, making them gravitate toward each other. “Okay?” Wilhelm asks, “If the counter’s not comfortable we could-”

“Please just shut up and kiss me Wilhelm.” And who could refuse a request like that? Simon pulls Wilhelm forward by the strings of his sweatshirt and the two of them kiss each other more heatedly this time, and Wilhelm’s tongue slips between them with a mind of its own. Simon hums softly into the kiss at that, and clutches the front of Wille’s sweatshirt tighter, pulling him impossibly closer. Simon bites at his lower lip gently, and Wilhelm can’t help the tiny moan that passes his lips. He feels Simon smile into their next kiss and Wilhelm runs his hands down Simon’s body and pushes his hand under Simon’s shirt, being rewarded with a soft whine from Simon in return.

Simon kisses Wille like he is the air Simon needs to breathe, like the universe is exploding and they’re the only two people in it, and Wille has never felt so beautifully wanted in all his life. Wille kisses Simon back with equal passion and heat, hoping that Simon can feel just how precious he is, just how much Wille wants him too.

They finally break apart and rest their foreheads against each other, both breathless and wearing matching smiles. “Was that sufficient enough to give you that heart attack you mentioned, would you say?” Simon asks with a cheeky grin, and Wilhelm thinks that Simon is able to say too many words right now, so he replies with,

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe you should try again and we’ll find out.” And Simon does, pulling Wille back into him and kissing him until Wille’s mind is full of nothing but bliss and Simon. 

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

Wilhelm’s whole body is pressed up against Simon’s now, standing between his legs with his hands pressed onto Simon’s cheek that isn’t bruised, and the other caressing the muscles of Simon’s stomach under his sweatshirt. Wilhelm has seen Simon’s abs once before, but touching them is a completely different matter. His fingers trace every line of Simon’s abdomen, in awe of the feeling of his beautiful lean muscles. 

At Wilhelm’s wandering hands, Simon squirms and shifts forward on the counter, pressing his body impossibly closer to Wilhelm and running his fingers through Wilhelm’s hair. When Simon gives it an ever so gentle tug, Wilhelm can’t stop the soft groan he lets out into Simon’s mouth. Simon’s lips press a smirk to his, and he tugs on Wilhelm’s hair again, slightly harder this time and runs his tongue over Wille’s bottom lip. At that, Wille feels a pressure building below his stomach and realizes that in their close position, Simon can most definitely feel the hardness in Wille’s pants against his thigh. 

Wilhelm reluctantly breaks the kiss then, shifting backward ever so slightly so his lower body isn’t pressed right up against Simon’s anymore. Simon looks at him questioningly, lips kissed a beautiful shade of red, asking, “what’s wrong?”

And how on earth could Simon think he’d done anything wrong? This is both the closest and farthest from heaven Wilhelm has ever felt. His lips are still tingling, and he’s sure he looks just as unraveled and messy as Simon does. Sure, he’s twenty-one and has done more than just kiss someone, but he’s never had it feel like this. He’s never been touched by someone and have it feel like this . And never touched someone and have it feel this way. “Nothing! Nothing, it was- you’re- I’m just uhhh.” He tries to pull the bottom hem of his sweatshirt downward to cover the situation, but Simon’s eyes follow the motion.

“Oh,” Simon says, tilting his head, his eyes filled with a sparkling mirth and his mouth forming a smirk. Wilhelm dreads whatever Simon’s about to say next. “More like something’s going very right, instead of wrong. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?” 

“Please shut up Simon,” Wilhelm mumbles with a smile of his own. He can feel his cheeks betraying him with a warm flush. 

“Why? Does me calling you that turn you on?”

“Shut up Simon!” Wilhelm says back, pulling his sweatshirt hood over his head and pulling the strings so that his face is cocooned in the material. Simon lets out a sparkling laugh, being the absolute menace that Wilhelm’s found out he is. And Wille is loving every moment of it.

“Wille, you’re ridiculous and I really fucking like you. What are you doing?” Simon says, still giggling at Wilhelm.

“Hiding,” Wilhelm answers, pulling the strings even tighter so he can barely see out of his sweatshirt. 

“Why?” Despite his hair and his sweatshirt blocking most of his vision, he can still see the absolutely delighted expression on Simon’s face. He’s really enjoying torturing Wilhelm like this.

“Because!” Wilhelm says laughing, still very much hard and trying his best to ignore it. The two boys are still laughing and Wilhelm drops his face into Simon’s shoulder, being very aware of keeping his lower body away from touching Simon. 

“Oh for fucks sake Wille,” Simon says with pretend frustration, grabbing the sleeve of Wille’s sweatshirt. Wille lets Simon guide his arm by the sleeve of his sweatshirt before letting go, leaving Wilhelm’s hand hovering just above Simon’s zipper. Wilhelm looks down and notices for the first time that Simon’s pants are also straining just like his. 

Oh. 

He looks up at Simon’s dark brown eyes, swirling like a dark ocean with flecks of gold. There’s an undeniable undertone of lust in them which makes that particular area in Wilhelm’s pants even tighter. “Can I?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand still hovering exactly where Simon had left it. 

Simon nods, eyes never leaving his. Wilhelm doesn’t break the contact of their eyes either as he tentatively, with a shaking hand, presses down on the hardness of Simon’s pants, wrapping his fingers over him gently. Simon finally breaks their gaze, closing his eyes and letting out a soft moan. The only thought left in Wille’s brain is how he’d like to hear every sound that could ever possibly come out of Simon.

He presses down more firmly, more confidently this time and Simon tilts his head backward. Wille takes this opportunity to press a kiss to Simon’s neck, which makes Simon stop breathing for a moment all together, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed. He presses more kisses there, trailing along Simon’s jaw and continuing to move his hand. Simon lets out another soft moan and Wilhelm has never been so turned on in his life. 

“Simon,” he says, stopping his hand from moving over Simon. Simon whines at the loss of friction and Wilhelm nearly blacks out. Simon opens his eyes, looking questioningly at Wille.

“Do you want to go to my room?” He holds his breath as Simon nods, reaching out and making grabby hands at Wilhelm. 

“Are you serious?” Wilhelm laughs at how adorable Simon looks, sitting on the counter, his curls all messy from Wilhelm’s hands, reaching toward Wilhelm all wrapped up in oversized clothes. 

“Mm” Simon says, letting his lips that are still wet and red from kisses form into a small cocky grin before planting an expression that displays the pinnacle of innocence on his face. 

“ Now who’s ridiculous,” Wilhelm says, utterly amused before indulging Simon’s request and picking him up, carrying him toward the bedroom.

“Five star royal service in this place,” Simon says into Wille’s shoulder. “I’ll be sure to leave a good review.”

Wilhelm drops Simon onto the bed in retaliation and Simon yelps. “But how would you know? You haven’t even received the full service yet,” Wilhelm responds, feeling extremely pleased with himself as he watches Simon’s smug expression give way to disbelief. He waits for Simon to reply but it seems he doesn’t have one, a faint pink dusting his cheeks instead. And good lord Wilhelm never wants to stop this feeling of being the one to render Simon speechless and blushing. 

He climbs onto the bed and presses a kiss to Simon which Simon instantly returns with equal passion. His hand slides under Simon’s sweatshirt again, this time tugging it upwards with both hands. “Wait wait,” Simon says, pulling away slightly and Wilhelm instantly removes his hands from Simon. 

He waits for Simon to speak, and it looks like Simon is struggling a little for once to find the right words. “Before we do this… I just, I need to know that this isn’t some test run for you. That you’re not going to try it out and then decide tomorrow that this isn’t what you want. Because if you say this isn’t what you want now, I’ll understand. That's really okay Wille, I promise. But please don’t do this now and then pretend it meant nothing to you later.”

“Simon,” Wilhelm begins, hoping that Simon can see the truth and the raw honest emotion in his eyes. He takes Simon’s hand and spreads it against his own chest, against his own heart and holds it there. “You were never an experiment for me to figure out what I wanted. I’ve known that I wanted you from the moment I saw you. There’s never been a moment where I haven’t been sure of that. I just wasn’t sure of myself, and when what I felt for you got too strong I started thinking about what that meant for my life, and for my position. But honestly Simon? I don’t care. I don’t care if that makes other parts of my life unsure because I have something that I am sure about. More sure about than anything I’ve ever had in my life, and that’s you. Simon I really like you, and if you’ll let me, I want to show you that. Let me make you feel good, and let me show you how much I appreciate every part of you.”

Simon’s warm eyes linger on his for a moment, before dropping down to look at where his hand is pressed on Wilhelm’s chest. “Okay,” Simon lets out in a whisper, his voice breathier than Wilhelm has ever heard it. 

“Are you sure?” Wilhelm asks, not wanting to do anything that will make Simon uncomfortable. He’s seen what fear in Simon’s eyes looks like, and he never wants to be the one to put it there.

“I’m really sure, Wille. Please.”

Wilhelm is mesmerized by the beauty of Simon’s face. He reaches out to run his fingers through Simon’s curls, before tracing the arch of Simon’s eyebrow and around along his cheekbone, smiling as Simon’s eyes flutter shut. His fingers continue trailing along Simon’s face, along the beautiful dip of his nose that Wille loves so much, before reaching his lips. Simon opens his eyes then and is looking at Wille with so much trust that Wilhelm doesn’t know what to do with himself. Nerves that were threatening to spill over finally do and he nervously blurts out, “have you ever done this before?”

Simon, clearly surprised by the question, lets out a startled giggle and says “Wille, after what you heard Anders say to me you definitely unfortunately know the answer to that question.”

“Ugh, don’t even say that name,” Wille groans.

“Make me.”

And Wilhelm just can’t let Simon look at him like that, so he kisses that expression right off of Simon’s face. Simon however, seems to always be able to read Wille like a book, because he allows Wille to kiss him for a long moment before asking what he knows Wilhelm was really trying to get at.

“How about you Wille? Have you…?”

Wilhelm nods, “but I’ve never um- I’ve never with a boy before.”

Simon snorts and says “yeah, I kinda figured that,” before his expression goes indescribably soft and he says “that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything-“

“Please?!” Wille half asks, half begs. “I really want to, but only if you want to as well… I just don’t really know what I’m- I want it to be good for you.”

Simon kisses him in a way that seems to make the world shift on its axis a few degrees before laying down on his back, head on Wilhelm’s pillows, and oh is it an absolute sight to behold. “I really want to,” Simon says, looking up at him. “And Wille, it’s you. Anything you could possibly do here right now is perfect to me. Trust me.”

That’s all it takes for Wilhelm’s body to come to the conclusion that he needs to be touching Simon this instant, because he’s pulling off his own sweatshirt faster than he can even register his movements. Simon giggles and mirrors him, pulling off his, or rather Wille’s borrowed sweatshirt, and tossing it off the bed. 

Wille climbs on top of Simon, holding himself up on either side of Simon, leaning down into a bruising kiss. Simon presses up into him and runs his fingers everywhere, through his hair, over his face, neck, shoulders, and back, before squeezing his butt gently. This causes Wilhelm to press down onto Simon in a way that makes both of them groan. 

Wilhelm’s kisses trail across Simon’s cheekbone, moving his way downward. His hot breath reaches Simon’s ear which makes Simon shudder below him. He continues kissing Simon’s jaw and neck, reaching a spot that makes Simon let out a mixture of a moan and a sigh and Wilhelm is sure he’s never heard such a perfect sound in his life. Wanting to hear the noise again he mouths at the same spot, being rewarded with an equally satisfying reaction from Simon.

He continues trailing his kisses downward to Simon’s collarbone, then kisses his shoulder, the inside of his arm, his wrist, and he delicately kisses one of Simon’s fingers, about to press a kiss to each one of them when Simon breaks the almost silence, his voice barely there asking, “what are you doing?”

Immediately he lets go of Simon’s fingers and moves away from him slightly, not sure what he did wrong but not wanting to upset him further.

“I’m umm kissing you?” Wille says, and he’s so confused that it comes out like a question.

“Oh.” Is all Simon says, with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Simon, what’s wrong?” Wille asks. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s like Simon’s brain finally kicks back into gear as he sputters out “nononono please don’t stop.”

“Okay…” Wille says, and still unsure of what’s happening he tentatively reaches out to hold Simon’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that Simon reciprocates instantly. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s just- You’re so gentle,” Simon says, his voice and expression almost disbelieving.

“Is that bad?” Wilhelm asks, starting to wonder if maybe he is way too out of his league, and truly awful at this after all. 

“No! No no no it’s- please don’t stop- it’s-” Simon cuts himself off and it looks like he’s debating letting Wille in on a secret. When he does finally speak again, his voice is almost a whisper. “I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

And Wilhelm is sure he’s never going to have a moment again in his entire life that could ever compare to this one. His heart is beating so fast, and he’s not sure what to say or do next, but apparently his heart decides for him. “Well you’re the best thing I’ve ever gotten to touch, Simon.” And he kisses his hand again.

At Wille’s words and kiss pressed into his knuckles, Simon gasps in a breath of air and his eyes flutter shut.

“Simon,” Wille says, “can you look at me?”

Simon opens his eyes and they’re filled with tears, yet not a single one allowed to fall. He’s looking at Wilhelm so openly, so honestly, and with so much vulnerability that Wille’s heart nearly gives out. 

“You’re beautiful Simon,” he says, and he watches as Simon’s gaze remains on him, face looking ethereal, as a tear finally escapes from Simon’s eye.

Wille reaches out immediately to gently wipe it away, and Simon groans and buries his face in Wilhelm’s neck.

“Ughhhh,” he says, “this is so embarrassing.”

“Hey,” Wille says softly, gently pulling Simon out from the crook of his neck so he can see his face. “No it’s not.”

Simon flops his head dramatically onto the pillow which makes a loud whump noise and Wille can’t help but giggle. Simon giggles right back.

“I swear I don’t usually cry when I’m-” he waves his hand around in a vague gesture between Wille and himself. 

Wilhelm smiles and presses a kiss to Simon’s nose, which shakes away Simon’s embarrassed look and brings back his soft smile.

“It’s really okay Simon,” Wille says, sending a soft smile back. “Just let me know if you want me to stop at any point okay?”

“Okay,” Simon says, “but at this moment I would actually really like you to take off my pants please.”

Wilhelm flushes again, and fiddles with Simon’s button with shaking hands, fumbling so much that he can’t unbutton it. Simon laughs and reaches down to help Wille, undoing the button for him. 

“Thanks,” mumbles Wille and Simon responds with “mhm less talking more unzipping.”

Wilhelm presses a kiss to Simon again before undoing the zipper of Simon’s pants, pulling them down his legs, trying to control his breathing and marveling at how Simon looks laying on his bed in just his underwear. 

He kneels on the bed, starting to take off his own pants when Simon’s fingers brush against his and he asks, “let me?” Wilhelm nods and Simon gingerly unbuttons his pants and trails his fingers over the area of his zipper, leaving a trail of tingling warmth that Wilhelm feels through the fabric. He unzips the zipper and slowly tugs, sliding Wilhelms pants down his legs. The feeling of being undressed by Simon is one he can’t describe. The butterflies in his stomach are flying rapidly and he watches as Simon drops his pants to the floor. Simon lays back down, pulling Wille back on top of him and tracing his fingers up Wilhelm’s bare thigh and back. It’s like a match lighting against his skin, and Wille feels sparks everywhere that Simon’s fingertips trace. 

Simon’s fingers reach his chest and he spreads his hand over Wille’s heart. “Your heart is beating so fast,” he marvels.

“Oh really, I hadn’t noticed.” Wilhelm says, and Simon giggles. He just can’t resist kissing this giggling boy under him any longer, so he presses his body flush on top of Simon’s, kissing him again. There’s more heat this time, tongues and teeth making it messier and needier. Simon pushes his hips upward and Wilhelm can’t help the sound he lets out into Simon’s mouth. He trails his hand down Simon’s chest and stomach, pausing over the waistband of Simon’s underwear. 

“Can I take these off?” 

“Yes please.”

Wilhelm breaks the kiss, shifting down the bed to pull the fabric off of Simon, sliding it down his legs and kisses his thigh and shin as he does. As he pulls the underwear off, he brushes the bottom of Simon’s feet unintentionally and Simon giggles and pulls his foot away. 

“Simon,” Wille says, looking up at him from the bottom of the bed. “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” Simon says, pouting. 

Wille reaches up and grabs Simon’s foot, brushing a finger along the bottom. Simon lets out what can only be described as a strangled squeal and pulls his foot out of Wille’s grasp and Wilhelm laughs. Who knew that the dark and slightly broody, confident bartender boy secretly had ticklish toes. Wille is in love with every little detail he’s finding out about Simon.

“Are you going to torture me all night or are you going to take off your underwear as well?” Simon asks, pretending to still have that adorable, indignant pout on his face. 

“Mmm depends,” Wilhelm says, not knowing exactly where this newfound confidence has come from. Simon’s eyes widen and Wilhelm can’t contain his grin any longer, sliding off his boxers. He climbs back on top of Simon, marveling at the boy under him, obviously sculpted by the gods. He trails his finger down the trail of hair below Simon’s belly button before whispering, “beautiful.”

Simon scrunches his nose and laughs. “I don’t think people usually describe dicks as beautiful Wilhelm.”

“Well then they have never seen yours.” 

Simon blushes and snickers, hands flying up to cover his face, and he hides behind them. Simon’s always the one making him feel like that, and he is enjoying nothing more than being the one to finally put Simon in his position for a change. He gently pries Simon’s hands away from his face and presses them against the pillow, pinning them lightly on either side of Simon’s head so that Simon can escape if he wants to, as he kisses him again. 

Simon bites Wilhelm’s bottom lip gently and Wilhelm sighs and melts his body more onto Simon’s. Simon pushes against him, creating resistance against the grip Wille has on his wrists. 

“Do you want me to let go?” Wille asks, making sure. Simon shakes his head and Wille presses Simon’s hands more into the pillow, trapping Simon’s ankles under his legs at the same time. Simon squirms his hips and whines so softly that Wilhelm wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t an inch away from Simon’s mouth.

“Simon?” He says, their eye contact so intense that Wilhelm is wondering how he’s still functioning. He asks teasingly, “do you like me holding you down?” 

Simon looks away, eyes anywhere but Wilhelm’s face as he eventually bites his lip and nods. It’s incredible to see Simon like this, all shy and blushing, the complete opposite of his normal behavior. He thinks it’s nothing short of a blessing to be witnessing this, much less being the reason for it.

Wilhelm repositions Simon’s hands to put them together, switching from holding them with both hands to one hand. He trails the other one down the smooth plains Simon’s chest again, hesitating nervously back and forth over his abs. “Can I?” He asks. And Simon answers, “please.”

He wraps his fingers around the tip, wet with precum. He strokes downward once, wetting it before giving a sharp upstroke which causes Simon to arch his back and close his eyes. Simon is always so devastatingly gorgeous, but he looks absolutely unreal in this moment. Wilhelm continues the motions with his hands, making Simon’s kisses messier and messier until he’s completely unable to kiss Wilhelm back, mouth open and head completely tilted back, blissed out with pleasure. 

Wilhelm kisses Simon’s neck and increases the rhythm of his hand, making Simon moan loudly. The noise stirs something warm in Wilhelm’s stomach and he wants more. He stops his hand on Simon’s dick, which makes Simon whine at the loss of movement and open his eyes. Wilhelm inhales sharply at the beauty of how absolutely wrecked Simon looks already. His cheeks are flushed pink, his lips bruised and red with kisses and his eyes are glazed over with a look of absolute bliss. 

“Can I…” Wilhelm swallows and gathers his nerve. “Can I please suck you off?” Simon’s blown pupils seem to get even larger and he nods eagerly. 

“Sì, yes, please Wille, please touch me,” Simon begs, and Wilhelm immediately obliges. He kisses Simon’s collarbone and shoulder, letting go of Simon’s hands which immediately land in his hair. He continues trailing down Simon’s body, leaving open mouth kisses that make Simon’s breathing ragged beneath him. He finally reaches where Simon is aching to be touched and plants his hands firmly on Simon’s hips, rubbing circles into his skin with his thumbs and kissing the inside of his thigh. He nips at the skin gently, then soothes it with his tongue.

“Please,” Simon whines, “please. Need you. Please.”

Wille finally puts his mouth on Simon, wrapping his lips around him and sucking gently at first. Simon moans again and his fingers tighten in Wille’s hair. He moves faster, eventually finding the rhythm that makes Simon let out guttural moans that send shivers throughout Wille’s whole body. Simon’s body tenses more, and Wilhelm can tell how hard Simon’s trying to keep his hips still for him. 

“Fuck. Se siente tan bien,” Simon says, gasping again. More Spanish words fall from his lips as well as Wille’s name, and Wille doubles down his efforts, in awe that he’s able to do at least well enough to make Simon forget his second language. 

“Wille, I’m gonna-“ Simon cuts himself off with another mixture of a whimper and a moan, but Wilhelm knows exactly what those strained words mean in this situation. He pulls off and replaces his mouth with his hand, stroking until Simon is shaking and writhing under him with Spanish curses falling from his lips. He coaxes Simon through his orgasm, not being able to look away from the pleasure on Simon’s face, his mouth forming a perfect “O”. 

Simon eventually stops shivering under him, and Wille presses a kiss to his shoulder before rolling off of him. The two lay side by side on their backs, both panting heavily. 

“Fuck- that was-“ 

“Yeah”

“Shit. Just give me a second and I’ll-“

“Simon you don’t have to-”

Simon reaches and grabs Wille’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I want to, hold on.”

The two of them catch their breath for a few more moments, simply looking at and admiring each other. Then Simon kisses him and bites at his shoulder gently which makes Wilhelm squirm in pleasure. Then Simon starts tracing patterns with his finger onto Wille’s abdomen and asks him what he wants. Wilhelm is astonished for a moment, because he’s never asked what he wants. He's always told what to do and when and where to be. What to say and what not to say. 

Simon asks then, “do you want me to do the same as you did?”

Wilhelm nods eagerly, wanting Simon’s hands, lips, tongue, anything touching him as much as fast as possible. He hadn’t noticed before when he was so busy making Simon feel good, but now he realizes how achingly hard he is right now. 

Simon kisses him with a sweet, featherlight kiss and climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. How can his sinful eyes look so pure and innocent all of a sudden? Simon strokes his cheek with dainty fingers and says “gonna make you feel so good baby don’t worry.”

Then Simon’s mouth is on his body and he loses himself in pleasure completely. Everything feels incredible: Simon’s movements, the pleasure and warmth radiating through Wille’s body causing him to be utterly lost in his own enjoyment, and the sound of their breathing and moans mixing together in the room. His orgasm leaves him motionless. When he finally comes back to reality and opens his eyes, he’s met with dark eyes watching him with an unfamiliar expression.

Wilhelm is used to Simon’s constant playful jabs at him at every moment, and the silence that surrounds them now that they’re finished is making Wilhelm panic. “Was it not- did I not-“

He is cut off by Simon slapping a hand over his mouth before he replaces his hand with his lips, kissing Wilhelm deeper into the pillows.

“Shhh,” says Simon. “I can’t remember how to form words right now.”

“Wow, a high compliment coming from the boy who can quote almost every poem ever written.”

“Oh god have I done,” Simon asks, laughing and pressing his face into the space between Wille’s shoulder and neck.

“What poem would you quote to describe how much you liked this?”

“I regret everything,” Simon groans, words muffled by how much his face is pressed into Wille.

“Mmm the noises you were making suggest otherwise.”

“Oh my god!” Simon says, pulling back to look at Wilhelm for a second before bursting into laughter, Wilhelm doing the same instantly. “I’ve created a monster!” 

“You’re giving yourself too much credit. I’ve always been like this. You were just too busy kissing me to notice.”

Simon’s mouth drops open in surprise, and as much as nothing could ever top the feelings of immense pleasure from just a few moments ago, he thinks teasing Simon back like this comes pretty darn close. 

Chapter Text

Simon’s POV

The first thing Simon notices when he wakes is that he is feeling very heavy… or rather something on top of him is feeling very heavy. He opens his eyes, blinking the blurriness of sleep out of them, and finds out exactly what this unusual weight is. He also finds that he does not at all mind this feeling one bit, quite on the contrary in fact. 

Wilhelm is curled up into his side, half on top of him, with his arm, leg, and half his body draped all over Simon. His head is laying on Simon’s chest and the smell of Wilhelm’s shampoo makes Simon sigh with comfort. The golden morning light is peeking in through the windows and Simon feels like he’s living in a painting, though he doubts there is a painter on earth that would be capable of capturing Wilhem’s beauty. It’s as though time is standing still, and the only two things that exist right now are him and the boy who is sleeping peacefully on top of him.

Despite the fact he’s basically being crushed into the mattress and his arm is tingling with numbness under Wille’s weight, he doesn’t wish to move at all. There is a blinding light of happiness that is heating up his whole body, and he has never felt this way before. He isn’t sure what that means, and he’s a little scared to find out, but then Wilhelm makes an adorable little noise in his sleep and burrows his head more into Simon’s chest. The smile that finds itself on Simon’s face is one that simply can not be contained. He smiles down at this (his?) beautiful boy, and can’t resist reaching out to touch the soft golden hair. He tucks it behind Wille’s ear, and traces his fingers ever so lightly along his jaw. 

Simon’s hands linger there for a moment before being unable to resist placing themselves back in his hair. He combs his fingers through Wille’s hair and gently twists it aimlessly around his fingers before repeating the movement over and over again. Simon watches Wille’s peaceful face with nothing short of admiration, even after he notices the little puddle of drool Wille’s left on his chest. 

Simon removes his fingers from Wilhelm’s hair to grasp the sheets, drying the puddle. “Why’d you stop?” A groggy and sleep-rough voice mumbles.

Simon giggles, and returns his hand into Wilhelm’s hair, playing with it once again. “How long have you been awake?”

“M’not awake, m’sleeping,” Wille mumbles, and Simon can’t get enough of Wilhelm’s rough sleepy voice or the way he feels the vibrations of Wilhelm’s every word with his head pressed so much into Simon’s skin. As if to prove his point, Wille, instead of moving off of Simon, squishes even more on top of him, and squeezes his arms around him, pulling him impossibly closer. 

Simon can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him, nor can he refrain from saying “you’re cute,” and brushing his finger along Wille’s eyebrow. “Also, I can’t believe my whole life I’ve been like ‘fuck the monarchy’ and now I’ve gone and taken that far too literally.”

“Noooo,” Wille mumbles into his skin again laughing, and feels his hand around without looking, before finally blindly finding Simon’s face and slapping his hand on top of it. “Too early. Can’t think of funny comebacks.”

Simon laughs again, muffled by Wille’s hand covering his mouth. He pokes his tongue out, touching it to the prince’s palm.  

“Eww gross,” Wilhelm says, wiping his hand on Simon and pulling his hand away, finally rolling himself off of Simon and laughing too. “You’re a child!” 

“Excuse me! I’m not the one who slapped their hand over my face just now!” 

“And I’m not the one who just licked me!”

“But you liked it though.”

“Oh fuck off Simon,” Wille says, rolling into Simon’s shoulder and giggling. Simon tucks his head on top of Wille’s giggling too. When they finally stop laughing and grabbing at each other, Wille slides up a little bit on the pillows so they’re laying side by side looking at each other. And god does Wille have the most wonderful eyes. He marvels at their caramel chocolate color, with rays of a darker, swirling brown fanning out around the gentle and delicate irises that are looking at him with so much feeling that he has to close his own eyes for a moment.  

When he opens then again, Wilhelm is still looking at him in that same adoring way and Simon is sure that no one in the course of history has ever even come close to the amount of happiness he is feeling in this moment. He sighs and says, “I really like you.” He lays as still as possible, waiting nervously for Wille’s response as he watches Wille’s eyes flit back and forth between his.

“I really like you too Simon,” Wille says, his eyes creasing with his soft smile, and Simon can’t resist kissing him anymore. He shifts closer and brushes his nose against Wilhelm’s once, twice, before finally closing the gap and feeling Wilhelm’s lips immediately press back against his own. It balances him, steadies him, and also makes the whole world open up below him. There are not enough words to describe how he feels, and when Wilhelm bites his bottom lip, he stops thinking of words entirely.

Then Wilhelm shifts next to him for a better angle, and their bare thighs brush against each other, reminding Simon for the first time this morning of just how naked they both are. He pulls back a little bit, feeling shy all of a sudden. And that’s new. He doesn’t get shy. He’s never had a reason to be. And now, here, all of a sudden, he feels himself blushing furiously and next notices Wilhelm’s victorious looking smirk, clearly enjoying Simon’s state. 

“Are you okay?” Wille asks with genuine concern, but there’s also a playful hint in his voice. 

“I have never been better,” Simon answers, and watches in delight as the softest smile lights up Wille’s face. “You’re beautiful.”

“Excuse me, that was my line.”

“That’s your line?” Simon asks, grinning.

“Mhmm, yup. Why I believe I used it twice just last night.”

“So I’m not allowed to call you beautiful?”

“Sorry, rules are rules.”

“Wow, okay then,” Simon says, stifling a laugh at how hilariously proud of himself Wilhelm looks right now. “So I suppose I could just call you simply ravishing, your highness.” 

He’s very pleased with himself as the blush immediately paints Wille’s cheeks and has to continue. “Or perhaps… devine? Magnificent?” With each word, Wille becomes redder. “Marvelous? Dazzling?… Exquisite?”

“Okay okay fine you win.”

“I usually do.” 

Wilhelm rolls his eyes, but the blush is still very much pink on his cheeks as he kisses Simon again. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of the feeling of Wilhelm’s lips on his. They’re looking at each other again, and he’s admiring every little detail of Wilhelm’s body, committing it to memory, as if Wille didn’t have a whole part of Simon’s mind already dedicated to it.

Then, Wilhelm starts to chew on his lip slightly and Simon feels the atmosphere change. He knows just from the way Wille is looking at him, the way he hates the way Wille’s looking at him, exactly what he’s about to ask. The same question that Wille had asked him a hundred times the night he showed up here broken. The same question that he deserved an answer to, but one Simon had yet to give him. 

But he should tell him, right? Laying here now with Wilhelm isn’t like the last time. This time they know each other, have confessed how much they like each other, have seen each other at their most vulnerable. Wilhelm had told him how afraid he’d been of his feelings and what that meant for his life, but that it didn’t matter because of how much he liked him. Shouldn’t he give Wilhelm the same thing? Shouldn’t he tell Wilhelm about his own life and trust Wilhelm with his feelings the way Wille trusted him? 

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Wilhelm’s hand finding his below the sheets and lacing their fingers together between their bodies. “Simon,” Wille begins, and Simon wills his nerves to calm, putting on his best indifferent expression that he knows how to do so well. “I know you don’t seem to want to answer this, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me, but if you want to I guess I’m just still wondering how you ended up here looking the way you did?”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Wilhelm anything. For some reason, it’s quite the opposite. He wants to tell Wilhelm everything. And that’s terrifying. Because he knows Wille cares about him, and he doesn’t want the reason for that to change. He loves the way Wille looks at him more than anything in the world. The way Wille looks at him and truly sees him. He doesn’t want the way he looks at him to be changed into looks of pity, or looks of fear. Because sometimes Simon fears that he’ll turn out just like his dad one day. It’s why he doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t party much. It’s not only because he’s seen how damaging it is, but also because he’s afraid he’ll like it. And he’ll become just as addicted in the same terrible way.

And Simon is the first boy Wilhelm’s ever been with. There’s so many unknown and new things that he’s experiencing right now and Simon wants to be there for him. He wants to help him and be strong and confident for him when Wilhelm’s so uncertain. If he realizes that Simon isn’t as strong or brave as he tries to project, then maybe Wille won’t feel comfortable being so vulnerable with him anymore, and that’s the last thing he wants. No one’s ever looked at him the way Wilhelm has. No one has talked to him in the same way, or touched him so gently like he was a piece of precious porcelain. Simon loves how gently Wilhelm treats him, but he doesn’t want the reason for that gentleness to change. He doesn’t want it to change into caution and hesitation once he knows what Simon’s experienced.

So why, after all these reasons, does he want Wilhelm to know more of his story than he’s ever told anyone. Why does he ache for him to understand? And why, with the sincere doe-eyes Wilhelm’s looking at him with, has he started talking before he can stop himself any further?

“My mom, um,” he begins, and Wilhelm squeezes his hand, giving him the strength to continue, “she died a little over a year ago now.”

“I’m so sorry Simon,” Wille says, eyes burning with compassion and Simon’s beating heart calms itself as Wille strokes his hand with his thumb. 

“And I knew that I wouldn’t be okay without her, but I guess I never could have imagined how not okay I’d be. She was everything to me and Sara. She did everything for us, working so hard, was so beautiful and kind. She’d invite my friends over for dinner all the time and always made sure Sara and I had everything we ever needed despite us not having a lot sometimes. And I just miss her so much every day.”

Wilhelm pulls him closer into his body and Simon goes willingly, letting Wille’s body wrap around him, blanketing him in comfort. “It sounds like heaven truly did gain an angel then,” Wille says softly into his hair.

Simon nods, eyes starting to become wet with the forming of tears that he quickly swallows away. “These past few months, I know I can take care of myself, but I just have been missing having a parent. I don’t want to be the one in charge all the time. So I went to see my dad a couple times, and it actually helped a lot. It felt like I was actually reconnecting with him… but,” Simon trails off, not knowing exactly what he should say next, how much he should tell. 

“But…?” Wilhelm prompts him after he has been quiet for several moments. 

“But he’s an addict. And an alcoholic,” he says with all the conviction he can muster, finally putting the truth out there into the room for Wilhelm to know. “And he was sober the other times, and I stupidly thought things were better, but I should have known.”

“Simon,” Wille says, wrapping his arms fully around Simon and pulling his whole body against him into an embrace, before pulling away and looking directly into Simon’s eyes, directly into his soul it feels. “You are not stupid. And you shouldn’t have had to know better. You-” 

Simon sees the realization flash behind Wille’s eyes and Simon feels the urge to run. He knew this was a mistake, he can’t do this, he can’t-

“Was he the one who did this to you?” Wille asks, hand reaching out to hover over what’s left of the now barely noticeable cut on his temple. Simon swallows and breathes a shaking breath before nodding.

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Wilhelm’s POV

All Wille wants to do on the outside is comfort Simon, so he does, hugging Simon and letting Simon cling to him as tightly in return. But on the inside he is shaking with more rage and disbelief than he has ever felt in his life. Someone had hurt Simon. Simon’s own father had hurt him. How could someone ever do that? How could anyone ever want to lay anything but a gentle finger on the most beautiful person he’d ever met. How could someone do this to sweet, gentle, loving, confident Simon? His anger at the world burns more as Simon hides his face in Wille’s chest, and Wilhelm holds on to him. Simon only deserves all the good things in the world. He doesn’t deserve his mom to be taken from him or a dad that causes him to show up at someone’s apartment in the middle of the night broken and bruised. 

Simon pulls away from him enough that Wilhelm can see his face again, and Simon is looking back at him so stoically and poised, as if he had not just told Wilhelm a thing. And Wilhelm’s heart clenches at the realization that he now has an answer to his other question that’s been lingering in his mind: how Simon is so good at doing that. 

“Thank you for telling me,” is all he can think to say, a million emotions swirling in his mind. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

Simon nods again and whispers a rough “of course.”

Despite now having his question that had been eating at him answered, Wille can’t help the new question that’s rattling around in his brain. Apparently, he isn’t subtle at all, because like always, Simon notices.

“If you have something to say could you just say it please?”

Wille’s anxiety spikes up a bit, and he doesn’t know what to say. “I uhhh, I don’t know if it’s my place to ask.”

“Well it’s worse with you just thinking it.”

“I don’t want to make you upset or mad at me.” Everyone’s always upset or disappointed whenever Wilhelm asks questions. His mother, his father, his publicist, his tutors. He doesn’t want Simon to be upset with this invasive question. But he has to know.

“I’m not going to be mad at you. Please just say it.” Simon’s calm facade is cracking a little and there’s a hint of panic behind his eyes so Wilhelm speaks it quickly before he can be the cause of Simon’s stress any longer.

“Do you think you’re going to go back there?”

Rather than tell him off for his question like almost everyone else does, Simon looks like he’s contemplating it very intensely, shutting his eyes like he’s almost in pain from how hard he’s thinking about it. And maybe, Wille realizes, he really is in pain just thinking about it. He immediately feels terrible. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked you. I didn’t mean to-”

“Wille it’s okay,” Simon assures him, and Wilhelm feels his shoulders relax a little. “I told you to say it. And I suppose if someone showed up at my apartment like that I’d ask them the same things.”

Simon pauses for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Wilhelm asks, not able to hide his surprise. He doesn’t understand how Simon would ever want to see the person who hurt him like that ever again. 

“I don’t know if I’m going to go back there or not. I know I should say no, that you want me to say no but-”

“Of course I want you to say no!” Wilhelm exclaims a little too loudly, his worry getting the best of him. “I don’t want you to get hurt again! Please don’t go back there!”

“It’s not that simple,” Simon replies too calmly, not matching Wihelm’s frantic tone in the slightest, and Wilhelm curses his mind that is always spiraling, now dragging his thoughts to all the times Simon might have had to stay calm like this before. He tries to regulate his tone so as to not worry Simon any further and asks, “but why?” 

“Because despite everything I still love him… And I hate him.” Simon’s eyes are finally giving away his shattered expression now as he says, “and I hate how much I still want him to love me.”

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

Wilhelm continues holding onto Simon for what could either be ten minutes or ten years, he wouldn’t have minded either way. And Simon lets him, his breath softly warming Wille’s neck and sending goosebumps across his entire body. Simon’s tracing patterns with his finger on Wille’s arm and chest, until his finger eventually stills and he says, “we probably should have showered last night.”

Wilhelm looks to where Simon’s hand is resting on him and sees an area on his lower stomach that is still sticky from last night’s, um, activities. Wilhelm snickers and Simon does right after, and how good it is to hear Simon’s laugh again after everything he’d just told him. Wilhelm still can’t wrap his mind around anyone ever being able to hurt Simon in the way his dad did… does , but he pushes those thoughts away, knowing that he wants to focus only on Simon right now. “You’re right, we probably should have.” Then he has an idea, something that would not only clean them off but also something that has helped Wilhelm calm his mind in the past. He all of a sudden is very nervous to ask Simon this. Is it too intimate too quickly? What if he thinks it’s weird? What if he says no and thinks Wilhelm’s odd for suggesting it? But they did just do that last night, and they are kind of still wearing only their underwear right now sooo… 

“Do you want to take a bath?” He asks, before he knows he’ll no longer have the courage too. “…with me?” He adds. And oh god why did he ask it like that? Shouldn’t he have led into it a little better? Instead of just throwing that question upon Simon? And why the hell did he specify ‘with him’? Like it wasn’t obvious who he was referring to? It’s not like there was anyone else here. Then again, he shouldn’t have assumed. Maybe Simon wants to be on his own right now, or shower by himse-

“I’d really like to take a bath with you,” Simon replies, warm chocolate eyes gazing up at him in the golden, near-afternoon sunlight. Simon slides himself away from Wille barely enough so Wille can sit up, but not much further than that. Who knew that when his boyfriend was sad that he turned into a tiny koala. Wait, boyfriend? Friend who is a boy… who he has slept with? And also likes to kiss? Friend-boy? He’s an idiot, but he climbs out of the bed anyway, tugging Simon with him. 

The two boys reach the bathroom, Simon basically attached to him the whole way, and he has never minded anything less. In fact, he wouldn’t mind if he spent his whole life clinging to Simon. “I uhh, need to fill the tub,” he says to Simon who says, “oh, right, yeah.” And lets go of Wille, hoisting himself up onto the bathroom counter effortlessly. The sight of Simon sitting on his bathroom counter watching him is all too familiar, and from the change in the atmosphere he can tell Simon realizes it too. His mind immediately flashes back to the soulless way Simon had looked the last time he was sitting there, bruised and bleeding, and he has to blink a few times to snap the image out of his head. He busies himself with turning on the water and laying out towels for the two of them. 

When the tub is filled enough and he turns to look at Simon, it is clear that Simon is thinking about the same thing. He wishes he knew what to say, or had the perfect thing to do in this moment that would make Simon feel better. But none of his royal tutors had ever taught him the right thing to say when someone’s abuse from their parent cut scars into them so deep that it’s unclear if they’ll ever heal. 

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Simon’s POV

“Come on,” Wille’s gentle voice brings him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see Wille extending a hand to him. Simon puts his hand in his and hops off the counter. He’d been thinking about the other time he’d sat on that counter with Wille taking care of him, and his heart warms with how gently he’s taking care of him again. No one’s made up a bath for him since he was young, and the tenderness of the action as well as Wille’s soft hand holding his is enough to make him want to cry again. But he’s already done enough of that in Wilhelm’s presence today, and he doesn’t want to subject him to any more of that right now. Instead, he lets Wille guide him by the hand towards the tub. 

Wille lets go of Simon’s hand and places his fingers on Simon’s hip bone just above his waistband. “Can I take these off?” He asks, looking directly at him with the softest gaze Simon’s ever seen. Simon nods and holds his breath as Wille gingerly grasps the fabric and tugs it downwards, dropping into a crouch so he can pull the boxers completely off of Simon. He knows they’ve just spent time in a bed together naked not long ago, touching each other’s bodies anywhere and everywhere, providing all the pleasure possible, but this feels different, and somehow more intimate. Maybe it’s because there’s no real intention behind this, it’s simply Wille gently removing his underwear so that they can sit in the bath. There’s no lust, no heat, no desire, just gentle touches with no other purpose but to provide care. Maybe it’s just because Simon’s just told Wille more about his life than he ever intends to tell most people, but the way that Wille’s gently tending to him leaves a lump in his throat. 

He wants to say thank you, to kiss him, to tell him that he’s perfect, but Simon just stands there like a choked up idiot. “Hey, hey it’s okay Simon,” Wille says, taking off his own boxers and tracing a finger from Simon’s shoulder and down his arm before lacing their hands together again. “Let’s get in, shall we?”

He steps into the tub and guides Simon with him, the two of them sitting down with Wille behind him and Simon in between his legs, his back facing Wille. He feels his body immediately melt at the feeling of the warm water, and he leans back into Wilhelm, who wraps his arms around Simon’s middle. Simon lays his arms and hands on top of Wille’s and leans his head against Wille’s shoulder and closes his eyes. It’s perfect.

He’s so happy. So happy that he has no idea why on Earth he begins to cry, silent tears that he learned how to do so many years ago that it’s become his default. Wille doesn’t notice until his shoulders begin to shake with sobs, and he pulls Simon into him tighter, whispering “you’re okay Simon, I’m here, you’re okay baby.”

Simon nods and tries to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, but he can’t . He hasn’t given himself permission to cry over his mama in nearly a year, or allowed himself to process almost anything with Micke, but it’s as if somehow Wille has taken down every wall he’s ever built to protect himself without even meaning to, and Simon can’t put them up again fast enough to stop the tears. 

Eventually, with the warm water and Wille surrounding him, murmuring in his ear, he stops crying and his breathing evens out. The two boys are silent for a moment before Wille asks the inevitable question, “are you okay?”

Simon’s instinct to reply “fine” dies before it reaches his lips, something that’s never happened before. Instead he finds himself spewing out the first thought that shoves its way into his mind. "We used to be really close, my dad and I. We–," he takes a deep breath to steady himself and starts playing with Wille’s fingers between his. “We used to always jam on the weekends. He was the one who… who created my love of music. He taught me how to play the piano, but he didn’t know how to read music either so he taught me how to play by ear, just like him. He also taught me how to play guitar too. I told him that one day I was going to be a rockstar and on my tenth birthday he bought me my first guitar. He told me that one day when I was famous I would play that guitar at my concert, and he would be in the front row of the audience.” He pauses, and his voice gives way to a shaky whisper as the words catch in his throat like glass, “I always thought that would come true. Even after everything started changing. I miss him. I miss him so much.”

He feels Wille nod behind him, and hum softly to acknowledge that he’s been listening. “I think you would make an excellent rock star Simon, the fangirls would all be after you.” Wille’s joke catches him by surprise, which it shouldn’t considering how Wille somehow always knows when he needs a laugh, and he can’t help the giggle that flows out of him.

“That would be very unfortunate for them,” he replies, “you know, considering that I am very gay.”

“Eh, their loss, my gain,” Wilhelm says, making him laugh again. Wilhelm presses the most featherlight kiss to his shoulder, and Simon is most definitely going to melt right into this water and drown. He all of a sudden really needs to see Wilhelm then, so he turns around to face him, squirming a little in the tight quarters of the tub to get into the right position. When he does, he’s sitting in Wilhelm’s lap, their faces just inches apart from one another. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” Wille responds, a soft blush that Simon loves so much spread across his cheeks. “For the record, I think you will also be a fantastic music teacher.”

“You remember that I told you that?” He asks, unable to believe that Wilhelm remembers something he told him before they were doing, whatever the hell this is between them. 

“I remember everything you’ve told me Simon.” 

And well fuck his melting heart, how is he supposed to not kiss Wilhelm after he goes and says something like that. He presses his lips to Wille’s firmly, their mouths gliding together, moving slowly and passionately. His hands make their way to the back of Wille’s neck, pulling him closer. He kisses him in this bathtub in every way he knows how, hoping that it conveys all Simon’s thoughts of thank you, I really fucking like you, you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, I don’t deserve you, I really want you, you make me feel safe. 

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Wilhelm’s POV

Simon kisses him until the water gets cold, before finally pulling away looking utterly and completely wrecked. His lips are red and chapped from kissing and his eyes red from crying, and somehow he still looks devine. Wilhelm’s not sure what exactly he’s done to deserve Simon sitting in his lap, kissing him like his life depends on it, but he’s certainly not going to question it. 

They untangle themselves from each other and step out of the tub, drying themselves and each other off, playfully smacking each other with towels like middle-school boys. He grabs the dark blue hoodie with the orange Ralph Lauren horse logo that he had lent Simon when they needed dry clothes from the rain, and pulls it over Simon’s head. 

“Hey!” Simon lets out a muffled shout from where his head is stuck in the bunched up material, giggling as Wilhelm manhandles him into it, Simon proceeding to be absolutely no help whatsoever. 

He takes in the sight of Simon with damp curls looking so absolutely soft and adorable in his hoodie that is way too big for him. The sleeves are too long so he rolls one of them up a few times and when he’s done, he pulls Simon's hand to his lips and presses a kiss inside his palm just because. “You’re tiny.”

Simon looks as though he has never been so offended in all his life. “I am not .”

Wilhelm reaches over to roll up the other sleeve the same way, before pulling the hood over Simon’s head and pressing a kiss to his nose. “Tiny and adorable.”

“You take that back,” Simon jokes, pretending to still be very offended. “I am not tiny and adorable, I am most certainly very sexy and enigmatic.”

“Whatever you say.” 

Simon huffs and grabs the other hoodie that Wilhelm had brought into the bathroom and pulls it over Wille’s head easily, dressing him in it far more effortlessly and gently than Wilhelm had done. Simon grabs the sweatshirt strings and tugs on them gently. “Do you know what I think you are?” Simon asks, looking at him with shining eyes. Wilhelm’s sure he’s about to be teased mercilessly, and is very caught off guard when he isn’t. “I think you’re perfect.”

“Oh,” Wilhelm says, surprised before recovering with a laugh and saying “I assure you, that I am very far from perfect.”

“And I assure you ,” Simon begins, snaking his arms around Wille’s shoulders and starting to play with his hair on the back of his neck, “that you are very wrong.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t you know I’m always right?” Simon tilts his head, that playful glint in his eyes making Wilhelm’s heart flutter. 

“Shouldn’t you be saying you are usually right?”

“Wilhelm,” Simon says sternly. “Are you going to agree that I’m right that you’re perfect and let me kiss you, or are you really going to try and disagree?”

“Are you trying to manipulate me with kisses?”

“Possibly. Is it working?”

“Possibly.”

“Well then?” Simon asks, fingers brushing along his hair and the back of his neck being far too distracting. 

Wilhelm has no choice but to give in to Simon’s delicious smirk and wipe it off his face with his own lips, sliding his tongue into the mix for good measure. 

Simon sighs into him and Wille can’t help but make the kiss sloppy by smiling. When they pull apart, Simon immediately has that extremely mischievous look in his eyes that makes him weak in the knees. “Would it also work, if I manipulated you with kisses to go back into the bedroom to undo all the work we’ve done cleaning the evidence of last night off of us in the bath?”

All Wilhelm can do is nod in an entranced state. How Simon can have him feeling so many things at once and so quickly, he doesn’t know. But he knows for sure that he certainly doesn’t mind. And right now the overwhelming feeling is wanting Simon. And so he takes, pushing Simon against the wall and kissing him ardently.

Simon lets Wilhelm press him against the wall of the bathroom, his thigh pushing against where Wille has all of a sudden found himself really needing Simon’s touch. He tries to hide how needy his body is for Simon already, but Simon somehow always knows. He can’t help but groan as Simon pushes his leg between Wille’s to create another exquisite and excruciating moment of friction. He tries to push himself against Simon this time to gain any sort of relief for his increasing hardness, but the second he tries, Simon bites Wille’s lip softly and slips out of the spot where he’s been trapped between Wilhelm and the wall. Wille catches his breath for a millisecond before turning around, finding Simon walking into the bedroom and pulling off Wille’s sweatshirt, putting on his own loose black button down shirt with vertical beige and white stripes that is now dry from the rain, nonchalantly as if nothing had just happened.

“Simon?” 

“Yes Wilhelm?” Simon says, turning to face him, and sliding on his black leather jacket that Wilhelm had been obsessed with the moment he’d seen him in it when they walked home from the bar last night. And if Wilhelm had thought he’d seen Simon’s playful mischief in his eyes before, he clearly hadn’t seen anything close to this. Simon is looking at him seemingly casually, with a cocksure grin spread across his face and his eyes positively sparkling with trouble. Oh no.

“What are you-? We were just-? What?” Wilhelm realizes what a sight it must be for a prince who has had private public speaking lessons for his entire life unable to form more than three words in a row. 

“Sorry? Pardon me, Your Highness? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Oh and fuck him. That little audacious, cheeky bastard. He knows exactly what he is doing. And Wilhelm finds himself unable to do anything but let him. 

“Simon.” Wilhelm tries to use his best commanding Your Highness voice, since Simon seems so keen on calling him that. He pretends to hate it. He clearly does not. 

“Oh, my apologies. I had completely forgotten I have a shift at the bar soon,” Simon replies, the very picture of innocence before pulling on his dark ripped jeans and grabbing the rest of his belongings. 

And this time Wilhelm does say it out loud, or more groans it, still being very much half hard. “Oh fuck youuuu Simon.” 

Simon giggles imprudently and Wilhelm can’t help his eyes from being glued to the adorable dimples that form on Simon’s cheeks. “To be fair,” Simon begins, “I did not expect you to react that much.” 

All Wilhelm can do in response is the very mature thing. The very mature thing of picking up the nearest pillow and throwing it at Simon. Simon catches it, and why was that so hot , and laughs again. Wilhelm just can’t get enough of that sound. 

Simon picks up the dark blue hoodie with the orange Ralph Lauren horse logo that Wilhelm had lent him off the bed and asks if he can borrow it.

“Did you seriously just let me shove you against a wall, do this to me,” he says, gesturing at the situation in his pants, “and then ask to steal my clothes?” 

Simon’s eyes go a little wider like a puppy’s and Wilhelm’s feigned indignation is failing rapidly. “Please?” Simon asks sweetly, pouting his bottom lip and looking at Wilhelm.

“Fine. Yes. Of course.” At this, Simon smiles and clutches the hoodie tighter. How in one moment Simon is allowing Wilhelm to kiss him against a wall with eyes full of lust and then the next moment innocently snuggling his hoodie, Wille doesn’t know. He does know he can’t get enough of it though. “But only if I can come with you.”

“Where?”

“To the bar.”

“Right now?” Simon asks, obviously surprised, eyes questioning but lips smiling.

Wilhelm shrugs, “if you want the hoodie.”

Simon gives in instantly which makes Wilhelm grin. “Okay, you win, let’s go.”

“I thought you said you always win.”

“I said I usually win,” Simon replies, lacing their fingers together and tugging him toward the door. “Now come on, let’s go

* * *

Wilhelm’s been sitting in the corner of the bar with a hat on, hoping that no one recognizes him. It’s been working so far for the past hour or so, and what an excruciatingly long hour it’s been. All he wants to do is touch Simon, kiss him, hold him, talk to him, but all he can do is just sit and watch Simon work. And why is Simon so hot when he’s bartending? Well, he’s always hot, but there’s just something about Simon in this element that makes Wilhelm not even question how easy it was for him to have fallen completely for Simon just from seeing him a few times in this bar.

Simon keeps flirting shamelessly with customers and then sending little glances and smirks Wilhelm’s way mid conversation, clearly knowing exactly what he’s doing. At one point Simon picks up a bottle, his hand sliding up it in a very suggestive way, and when he sees Wilhelm’s eyes glue to his he winks at him. 

He immediately is so flustered that he has to look away and it brings back the memory of Simon winking at him from across the bar the other time he was here with Felice, where she figured out his little crush, or maybe rather massive crush, quite quickly. She’d be proud to know how much progress he’d made since then. He decides fuck it, he’s just going to tell her. She’d already made it clear she basically knew exactly what was happening anyway, so it’s not exactly a surprise.

Wille: Guess where I’m at rn

Felice: Idk, do I get a hint?

Wille: I may have had a slight identity  crisis last time we were here 

Felice: Omg are u at the bar?

Wille: Yes

Felice: Is the really cute bartender guy there?

Wille: Yes

Felice: Did you ever talk to him?

Wille: Yes

Felice: For gods sake Wille give me more than yes

Wille: Lol okay, fine, yes I talked to him 

Wille: and he’s kinda been over my apartment  a few times, and I’ve been to his dorm once

Felice: OMG WILLE YESSSSSS

Wille: and I kinda came here tonight with him?

Felice: OMG BABE IM SO GLAD YOU TOLD ME!! 

Felice: But what are you doing texting me?!? 

Felice: Go hang out with your super hot boyfriend 

Wille: He’s working. And he’s not my boyfriend

Felice: …yet 

Wille: 🙄

Felice: 😘

* * *

He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues shamelessly staring at his… Simon, because he can do that now? Before he was very much trying to be discreet in his staring, which had apparently failed miserably. Or perhaps considering this outcome not miserably at all. But now he doesn’t have to pretend to look away. He can watch him for as long as he likes. And right now he’s looking at Simon… looking back at him like that, a smile playing on his lips. Oh no, the exact same way that Simon looked at him with his thigh pressed between his legs right before they’d left. And there may or may not be a slight situation in his pants right now that is completely Simon’s fault for getting him worked up with no release on purpose right before they left. 

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Simon’s POV

The door of Wille’s apartment is barely closed before he’s shoved up against it, hands pinned on either side of his head, and kissed like he’s the air Wilhelm needs to breathe. It’s slightly, but not entirely surprising given the state he’d left Wilhelm in on purpose right before heading out for the bar. “okay?” Wilhelm asks, and Simon replies with a breathy “very okay.”

He hears himself let out a groan as Wilhelm’s pelvis grinds against his just right, making his ripped skinny jeans feel increasingly too tight. He tries to move his hands to unzip his pants, but they’re firmly pressed in place. He wriggles his wrists, trying to get out of Wille’s grasp, without actually wanting to. Wilhelm immediately lets go of him and asks, “do you want me to let go?” And Simon shakes his head no. Wilhelm blushes instantly which Simon finds funny, given that he’s the one holding Simon against the door, not the other way around. He resumes their previous position and before long he’s panting a “please,” into the air as Wille’s kisses move to his neck. He rolls his hips forward against Wille, “please off, please.”

“And why should I help you?” Wilhelm asks him, nipping at the base of his neck and then soothing it with his tongue, making him fail at holding in a whine. “You’ve made me hard twice tonight, and then done absolutely nothing about it, because you are trying to kill me apparently, so I only think it’s fair I should make you wait too.”

At Wille’s words and his intense gaze, Simon’s knees go weak, now only still standing up because of Wilhelm’s grip on him. Simon gulps, his pants straining very uncomfortably around him, which only makes the sensation more intense. Then, what Wille said finally fully dawns on him and he asks, “wait, twice?”

He’s satisfied at the way Wille immediately looks like he’s been backed into a corner, having confessed something to Simon he may have meant to keep to himself. Instead of backing down like Simon thought, Wille just says “yes,” before picking Simon up and carrying him into the bedroom. And fuck, he’d almost forgotten how hot it was how easily Wilhelm could just carry him like that. He was so gone for this beautiful idiot.

Wilhelm lets him go on top of the bed, and Simon lays down on it as fast as he can, Wilhelm climbing over him. “Once when you did that before we left,” Wille says, “and once at the bar.”

“Well only one of those was on purpose,” he replies, and Wilhelm gives him a look that conveys he doesn’t believe him one bit which makes Simon snicker. Okay… maybe he had possibly done certain things certain ways when he knew Wille was watching him. 

“Maybe, but they’re both your fault Simon.” 

The way that Wille says his name, eyes ablaze and lips tracing a hot trail across his collarbone makes him shudder. He focuses extra hard on forming words which seem to be more and more difficult to come by the longer that Wille’s touching him. “And how is that? All I was doing was working. I only looked at you.”

“Exactly,” Wille murmurs into his chest, hands, lips, and tongue roaming everywhere, making Simon’s eyes close of their own volition. “You kept looking at me. And all I could think of was what you made me want to do to you before we left.”

Simon’s heart all but gives out at that, and he takes a moment to make sure his body is still breathing, somehow making out the words, “what did-“ Wihelm traces his finger along Simon’s zipper and presses his hand against the area which makes Simon’s mind fail completely. “What did I make you want to do before we left?”

“I’m so glad you asked.”

* * *

A week later, he asks Wille if he wants to meet his friend and his sister. Wilhelm enthusiastically agrees. They meet up in the empty hallway leading to the library doors, and Wilhelm grabs him by the hand and pulls him in to give him a quick kiss that makes him warm all the way to his toes. Wille grabs his hand and they walk toward the doors, and the whole time Simon’s wondering what exactly he’s supposed to introduce Wille as. When they reach the doors and Wilhelm immediately lets go of his hand before there’s anyone around as usual, it’s clear to Simon that the line Wille hasn’t ever crossed when they’re in public is still very much there, so he introduces him like always as his friend. He pretends that he wasn’t secretly hoping he would be able to introduce Wille to his friends as more. 

Sara and Ayub are a little surprised of course at having the prince of Sweden sitting with them at their usual study session, but Simon’s grateful that they try to hide it well. They immediately welcome Wille into their little friend groups with jokes and good natured teasing, and Simon watches Wille relax into a comfortable rhythm easily, making him smile. Sara uncharacteristically doesn’t even ask him where he’s been these past few days, and thank god for that. He doesn’t even know how he would answer.

As predicted however, the second they all head home for the night and Simon steps into his door, Sara follows him in and starts asking questions. 

“So you two are dating right?”

“What?!”

“You and Wilhelm. You’re dating, right?”

“I- no.” It doesn’t come out as sure as he’d have liked it to.

“What do you mean no? There’s obviously something going on between you two. It’s really obvious.”

“What’s obvious?”

“Well for starters, every single time he so much as breathes, all you do is look at him like he hung the damn moon.”

“I do not-“

“And I would just say okay, you have a crush, whatever, except for one I haven’t seen you have a crush on anyone since we were kids, and two, he looks at you the exact same way.”

“He does?”

“So you admit you’re together.”

“Well we’re not together… exactly.”

“Well what are you?”

“I don’t know, we’re just us I guess.”

“Well, do you want to be his boyfriend?” Sara asks, point blank. And Simon shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“I mean… yeah.”

“Okay so why aren’t you?”

“Because it’s complicated Sara.”

“What’s so complicated about it?” She asks, reaching out for his hand, “and why didn’t you tell me any of this? We promised each other no secrets Simon.”

“I know,” he says, taking her hand and hanging his head, “I’m sorry, it’s just, I didn’t know if I should tell you. You don’t like keeping secrets and I need you not to tell anyone.”

“Okay, I promise.” She looks at him earnestly and he can see the truth of her promise in her eyes. “But why are you sneaking around?”

“It’s for his sake,” Simon sighs, “he’s not out to his parents yet, and he’s the prince of Sweden. The second people start finding out about us it’ll be everywhere and the people he’d want to tell will see it before he gets the chance to tell them.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Wilhelm has cared for him in a way that no one else has. He knows that his sister and friends love him and that his mama loved him, but this romantic love is different. The thought that it’s love doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would, or as much as it probably should given the way he’s seen how love is sometimes not enough. Wille’s gentle with him, silly with him, lights up his whole world with just a text, and is the most Simon’s ever had in a relationship. So why, sometimes when Wille doesn’t exactly meet his gaze across campus when he’s waking with August, or when he lets go of his hand the second people may be around, or introduces him to people as his “friend Simon” does it not feel like it’s enough?

But then Wille’s whole face lights up when they randomly run into each other in the campus dining hall, smiles as bright as the sun at him from across the bar or when they study in the library, and sneaks little oranges into his backpack when he thinks Simon isn’t looking, and it feels like enough. 

“I’m okay with that,” he replies. 

And they go on like that for many more days, Wille and Simon. Everyone knows the two of them are always together. But no one knows that they’re together. 

Chapter Text

Simon’s POV

The equations seem to be shapeshifting on the page as he copies them down. How are these formulas even getting him to the answer? And why the hell does he need to fulfill a maths requirement if he’s studying music? All of a sudden, a warm wet sensation is sliming his ear.

“Ew, gross!” Simon huffs and shoves Wille playfully away from him before climbing on top of him. The two boys roll around and shove at each other on the floor of Simon’s dorm before calling a truce and lying next to each other, Simon’s textbook and Wille’s essay tossed out of the way. “The hell was that for?” Simon asks.

“You looked vexed. I helped.” 

“You call licking my ear like a four year old helping?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over my excellent problem solving skills,” Wille says, poking Simon gently. Simon can’t help but giggle and kiss him, which Wille happily returns. “You get this very adorable perplexed expression on your face when you’re doing math you know. You scrunch up your face a little and squish your eyebrows together.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m confused,” Simon pouts, still having no idea how to solve the math problem. 

“Maybe,” Wille says, “but the problem of you looking confused has been solved.” Simon pokes him back and Wille grabs his finger, pressing it against his cheek as he kisses him again. Maybe this is what heaven feels like. 

* * *

They get into a routine like this. Having classes in the morning, sometimes meeting for lunch if their schedules line up, then studying in Simon’s dorm or in the library with Sara and Ayub. About a week and a half ago the four of them had been studying in the library. He had been really tired out from a late shift he had to cover at the bar the night before, and unthinkingly laid his head on Wille’s shoulder. Wille had awkwardly scooted away, shrugging Simon off his shoulder ever so slightly, and that had been enough for Simon not to try anything like that again. 

It’s fine though for the most part. Wille still touches him and kisses him like he’s the most precious thing in the world when they’re in private, and they still hang out together all the time in public. Simon often has this indescribable longing in him though, this strange hunger that he can’t describe, for something more. But perhaps he is just being greedy. Wilhelm has given him everything he could ever want, and so much more than he ever thought he’d deserve. He doesn’t want to ruin this fragile thing they have between them by asking Wille when the time will come when he won’t feel like Wille’s hiding him anymore. Whatever this is between them shouldn’t feel like it’s fragile, but for some reason it does. 

It’s not like Simon wants to be flaunting their relationship everywhere, in fact it’s quite the opposite. He’s always kept everything close to the chest, and he’d rather not shout from the rooftops and have everyone know that they have feelings for each other. All he wants is for Wilhelm not to shrink away from his touch when they’re in public, to not have Sara sending him questioning glances every time they study together, to not have to look around and check their surroundings if they ever want to kiss each other. 

These thoughts swirl around in his mind as he lays in Wille’s bed right now, and he immediately feels guilty for thinking them as Wille slides his arms tighter around Simon and shifts his body closer. Eventually he falls into a sleep without nightmares, Wille’s warmth protecting him from everything in his broken mind that wants to hurt him.

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Wilhelm’s POV

Wille wakes up to the sound of his phone vibrating on his nightstand. Hoping to not wake Simon up, he untangles himself from Simon as little as possible and reaches over as far as he can to silence his phone. It starts vibrating again relentlessly, so he suppresses a groan and picks it up. Seeing that it’s a FaceTime from Erik, he swipes to answer it and connects the call. The second Erik’s face pops up, he’s already greeting Wille in a cheerful manner, and already dressed for the day. Of course Erik would have been up already being productive while he is being the lesser prince, still in bed at this hour on a Saturday. 

Simon makes a little noise in his sleep however and burrows his head more into Wille’s shoulder, and that feeling of being lesser dissipates instantly. How could he regret being still in bed when the most beautiful boy in the world is sleeping here next to him. 

“Wille,” Erik says through the phone, and Wille snaps his head back to the screen. He’d nearly forgotten he’d answered the call. “What were you just staring and smiling at?”

“Shhh, nothing,” Wille replies, turning down his phone volume and speaking as softly as he can.

“Why did you just shush me and why are you whispering?” Erik laughs and Wille wants to hang up the FaceTime right then and there. He doesn’t though, because he would never actually want to hang up on Erik.

“You were being loud and it’s early in the morning,” Wille lies, and then asks “how was the state trip?” Hoping to change the subject.

“It was good,” Erik replies, “it actually went more successfully than we originally had thought, which is not a luxury we usually experience. So I’m quite glad about that… also good job trying to change the subject.”

Wille groans and rolls his eyes. Erik laughs loudly and Wille looks over at Simon to check that he’s still asleep. When he looks back at his phone Erik is grinning at him with that same look in his eyes that Simon always gets. The one where he’s about to tease Wille. How on earth is he surrounded by two people right now who like to torture him? One on his phone and the other using his entire body as a pillow. 

“Is there someone with you?” Erik asks, propping his chin against his hand and smiling. 

“No.”

“Well most people don’t really look down at their crotch and smile so I’m going to really hope there is someone there.”

“I’m not looking at my crotch, I'm looking at my shoulder.”

“You don’t see me smiling at my shoulder.” Erik laughs again and Wille wants the bed to swallow him whole.

“Fine, okay, yes, there is someone here.”

Erik’s eyes light up, “ooh is it Simon?”

“Um…” it still makes every nerve in his body feel like they’re on high alert, ready to spring out of his skin because of the fact that Erik knows about this. Knows that he’s not who he’s supposed to be. But he’d told Erik for a reason, because he’d wanted him to know, and Erik had been so supportive. As scared as he is, he shouldn’t lie to his brother. “Uh, yeah. It’s Simon.”

“So you did talk to him after all! I’m really proud of you Wille, I can’t imagine that was easy.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you that he forgave you, and also that he saw how much of an idiot you are.”

“Erik!” He can’t help but quietly laugh as he watches Erik suppress a laugh of his own through the screen.

“Can I see him?”

“See him?”

“Simon? I feel like I’ve heard so much about him but I don’t know what he looks like.”

“Oh, uh, I guess so.” He tilts the phone down so that Simon sleeping against him is visible on the screen. Wilhelm smiles gently as he watches Simon’s smoothe chest rise and fall with each breath, his curls messy from sleep.

Erik speaks again and snaps him out of his admiration. “Okay I was looking at him, but then I was looking at you looking at him, and you looked so happy that I can’t even think of anything rude to say.”

“Thanks, that’s definitely a first.”

Erik laughs again. “He’s cute, I see why you like him.” 

“Okay great, can we be done now?” Wille asks, not sure he can handle any more of Erik’s purposeful embarrassment. 

“Fine fine, I’ll leave you two alone.” Erik waves goodbye and they hang up the call. Wille puts his phone back down on the nightstand and enjoys the silence of him and Simon being the only two people in the universe. 

“I didn’t say you could put me on FaceTime,” a muffled voice murmurs into his skin.

Wilhelm startles slightly. “When did you wake up? How much of that did you hear?”

Simon shifts then so that he can see his whole face, and Simon’s looking up at him with wide eyes and a look in them that Wille doesn’t know what it means. “You told Erik about me?” Simon asks, his voice quiet and un-Simon-like.

“I- uh- yeah. Is that okay?”

Simon nods and lays his head back down on him. “That’s really okay Wille, I didn’t know you told anyone. I’m proud of you.”

“My friend Felice also knows, the one that I said I’ve been friends with forever? She actually, uh, she actually told me to go talk to you when I was allegedly staring at you at the bar.”

“You weren’t allegedly staring, you were looking at me so hard I couldn’t tell if you were into me or if you were plotting to murder me.”

“I hate you Simon,” Wille groans, covering his face with his one free hand.

“False,” Simon says, pressing a kiss onto his chest and then slowly tracing a line down his abdomen.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.”

Simon laughs and then is quiet a moment before saying, “I really am proud of you Wille. I know it’s not easy to come out to people you care about.”

What on Earth could Wille have ever done to be blessed with this boy? This boy who’s beautiful, talented, charismatic, charming, and always knows the right thing to say. In all the nights Wille’s started doing homework at the bar, he’s sure he’s watched nearly every customer who speaks to Simon fall in love with him. 

He’s glad no news sources have noticed how much he frequents the bar, not that he usually drinks anything, just types his essays on his laptop, answers his emails, and watches Simon. It’s probably due to his various disguises of sunglasses, scarves and baseball hats that make Simon laugh that no gossip columns have started writing about a ‘drinking problem’ or whatever other lie they’d most likely conjure up. 

Somehow he seems to get his homework done faster there. Maybe it’s the motivation of getting to have the rest of the night free with Simon, or the white noise of the chatter of the bar, but he likes that he doesn’t feel alone in the quiet of his head there. And he gets to feel like a good boy… friend for walking Simon back home to his dorm. 

“Wille, can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer it.”

“Anything.”

“Do you think that you’re ever going to tell your parents? I’m not trying to pressure you, I was just wondering… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked that. I’m not good at this stuff,” Simon says, trailing off at the end.

The thought of telling his mother and seeing her inevitable disappointment in him makes his chest tighten, but the fact that Simon could ever think he’s not good at something overtakes it. “Simon, you’re perfect at this stuff. You’re perfect to me. And I want to tell them, I just don’t know how to yet. I need time to figure everything out.”

Simon nods and his hair tickles Wille’s chin. He slides his fingers through Simon’s curls and watches as they bounce back around his hand. Simon wraps his arms and legs around Wille, as if he’s trying to hug his entire body and says, “you’re the one who is perfect Wille. And take all the time you need, I respect that, and I really like you. And I’m glad you have Felice too.”

* * *

Wille isn’t sure what it is, but in the week that follows after that morning, they seem closer. He does his homework at the bar some nights and with Felice some others. He tells her how Erik knows too, and fills her in on every detail so far. Felice fills him in on everything going on in her life as well. It’s a happiness he never knew was possible. To feel that there are so many people in his life who care about him. 

Sara doesn’t seem as though she’s warmed up to him all that much, but he’ll continue to keep trying. Simon says that’s just how she is. He even gets the courage to reach for Simon’s hand under the table when it’s just the four of them studying in a corner of the library, and he watches in contentment as a gentle, glowing smile makes its way onto Simon’s face, and is smug at how Simon seems to only make it through less than a page of his music notes after that. 

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Simon’s POV

On Saturday night, all the patrons have finally gone and he’s stacking up the bar stools and wiping down the counter. Rosh is heading to her parents house this weekend and had been worried that she wouldn’t make the train home, so he told her to head out once the customers left and he’d take care of closing up. She’d been so thankful that she promised not to tease him and Wille for two whole days, and actually gave him a hug, which had been equally startling as it was nice. 

Since they’re the only two people in the bar, Wille finally takes off his sunglasses and baseball cap. “Thank god I can finally see!” Wille exclaims, and Simon laughs, finishing up everything and putting away the final items. When he’s done he washes his hands, flicking water at Wille who’s now standing next to him.

“Simon!” Wille yelps, reaching in the sink and flicking water back at Simon. 

“Hey!” Simon giggles back, as if he wasn’t the one who’d started this. “I can’t believe the Prince of Sweden is literally flicking water at an innocent boy. The people will be hearing about this!”

Wilhelm smiles, but his eyes have a heat behind them. “Will the people also hear about how this boy isn’t so innocent, and that he’s kissing the Prince?” Wille is crowding him up against the counter now so that Simon is nearly leaning back against it, and Simon’s heart is beating faster.

He presses a hand to Wille’s chest and clutches the fabric in his fingers, pulling Wille down to him. “I would do no such thing,” he says, before doing exactly such a thing, kissing Wille deeply. 

* * *

Simon is so lost in the feeling of Wille’s lips against his, his tongue tracing Simon’s, Wille’s body pressing his against the counter, hands pulling at his hair and down his back, that it doesn’t occur to him that though they may be the only people inside the dark bar at 1:30 am, they may not be the only people on the dark sidewalk outside of it. And it doesn’t occur to them that Wilhelm’s no longer wearing his sunglasses or hat under the cover of night, or that maybe tonight’s disguise wasn’t such a good one, and that maybe someone recognized him and tipped someone off. And it doesn’t occur to them that some journalist who’s looking for their big break might investigate that tip.

Chapter Text

Simon’s POV

He finishes shaking the cocktail, pours it out, and slides it over to the woman who had ordered it, flashing her his signature smile that always leaves him with more tips at the end of the night and with Rosh rolling her eyes. The woman thanks him, but she does an odd double take at him and hesitates slightly when picking up her drink. Odd. Women at the bar often try to flirt with him, but this is definitely a strange approach if that’s what she’s doing.

He soon questions if that is indeed what she’s doing after all when he looks up and sees several more pairs of eyes on him. What is going on? He looks down at his apron to see if he’s spilled anything on it. He hasn’t, but even so why would people be staring at him like that? All of a sudden he feels like a zoo animal. There’s a strange buzz going around the bar, an ominous haze that settles like a heavy weight around him. He looks up at the bar tv to see if any tragic news or something has occurred, but he finds nothing of note. People are looking down at their phones, whispering to each other, and then looking at him as though they don’t want him to notice they’re doing so. Okay… what the hell? He’s starting to panic now, and seconds later feels a hand tugging his arm into the back room. 

“Rosh what the hell?”

“Simon, you need to see this,” Rosh says, looking panicked. In the many years he’s known Rosh, there have been only a select few times he’s seen her look so shaken. She thrusts her phone into his hands and his stomach drops.

THE PRINCE OF SWEDEN’S SECRET BOYFRIEND?

The title of the article reads, followed by a blurry video of the two of them kissing in the bar the other night, Simon against the counter in full view and Wilhelm’s side profile able to be slightly seen. You almost wouldn’t know that it’s him, except Simon knows, and oh god Wille must know, and whoever took this video knows.

The first line of the article says, “looks like our childhood fairytales of the prince and the princess are no longer what this monarchy has in store. Instead, it appears to be more the boy and the bartender.” 

The article goes on with more speculation about the two of them, correctly identifying who he is before diving into Wilhelm’s entire dating history and comments from anonymous sources that are most likely false about Wille’s sexuality. 

Simon knows he shouldn’t, but his eyes can’t stop reading the article and going to the comments after he’s done. Some of them are nice, people writing “love for the boys!” and “yesssss queer rep in a monarchy? Stan Wilhelm!” Others are rude or disgusting, some claiming that being with Simon is charity work for Wilhelm, or that he’s using Wille to get ahead in life, others saying “sexy!” and “so clumsy to get caught on film.” The comments slandering Wilhelm for some reason hurt him more than the ones slandering himself. There’s so many claiming that Wilhelm’s a disappointment to the monarchy, calling him slurs, and writing that he’s going to set the wrong example for the youth who look up to him. 

And fuck all those people. Is Wille okay? Has he seen this? Where is he right now? Does he know? He can’t think straight and he finally registers that Rosh has left him there in the room alone as he opens the door to see her trying to handle the customers of the bar without him. He wipes his shaking and sweaty hands on his apron and walks back out into the bar. Big mistake.

Someone walks up to the counter with their phone turned so he can see it, the video playing. He tries to hide his wince, and they ask if he’s the one in the video and if it’s the prince. 

“No,” he says, not knowing what the hell else to say. Fuck fuck fuck he’s fucked everything up. Wille had finally held his hand under the table for the first time when Sara and Ayub were the only other ones around, and he’d just told his brother, and now Wille’s been forced out to everyone… all because of Simon. It’s his fault. It’s all his fucking fault. He’s fucked this up just like he fucks up everything. He should have known this was coming. Everything in his life was going too well for too long, he’d let his guard down, and he’d allowed himself to hope. 

And look where that has gotten him once again. All he ever does is put his faith in people and in the world, and look where it gets him every single time. There’s a reason he forced himself to stop hoping years ago. 

“Simon!” Rosh is waving in front of his face, and it’s clear by the way she’s saying his name that it’s not the first time she’s been repeating it. “Simon I’m so sorry,” is all she says. At first he thinks it’s because of the article and the video, but then he follows her gaze up to the television, and it’s like every nightmare he’s ever had is nothing compared to the one he’s living right now. 

It’s his father, bloodshot eyes, stained shirt, and clearly high and drunk as shit, being interviewed on tv, with the banner at the bottom of the screen reading “Micke Eriksson, father of Prince Wilhelm’s secret lover.” He wants to scream, cry, throw up, something, anything, but he’s frozen in place, unable to do anything except watch the person and the part of his life that he’s kept secret from almost everyone speak about him with slurred words on national television. 

“Oh yes, we’re so so proud of him. So proud. He came out a long time ago and we’re so proud of him. Good for him being gay who he is and all that shit. Great boy he is that kid. And now he’s famous! Always wanted to be. I told him when he was a boy when he was little when me and him used to be a family he was gonn’ be famous. And he did it now, good for him. Simon if you’re out there I’m sorry I fucked up a lot of things but good for you. You’re famous now. Go play that concert. I’ll be in the front row. My boy.”

Rosh drags him back into the back room and sets him down gently as he collapses into her, sitting on the floor.

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Wilhelm’s POV

He’s been frantically trying to get through to Simon, but Simon hasn’t picked up his phone. Now he sits staring at his phone in front of him on the floor, watching it buzz and ding as the millionth text and call is sent to him. He wants to shut it off, to shut out the world, to stop the buzzing of his phone and the buzzing in his head and the vibrations of his phone and body but he can’t, because he needs to hear from one person in particular. 

He’d had the tv on, studying in the living room when the reporter stated that they were there “live with Micke Eriksson, father of Simon Erikkson, now known to the public as Prince Wilhelm’s alleged boyfriend.” The messages had started coming in then, links to the video, texts asking if it really was him in it, and phone calls from the palace. He’d barely made it to the bathroom before emptying the entirety of his dinner into the toilet. His phone lights up once again, and he has the urge to throw it across the room until he sees who it’s from. Simon. 

“They- He’s- everyone- they all know- We shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t-“ Simon says through the phone, borderline hysterical. 

“Simon, breathe.”

“Wille- I can’t- I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Shh it’s not your fault Simon.”

“Wille-“ and by the sounds Wille can make out, he’s sure Simon’s crying on the other end of the line. “Wille, Micke’s on tv.” 

“It’s okay, I know Simon, I saw.”

“Wille he’s high on tv and everyone can see it.” The sound of Simon letting out a shaky, wet sob and sniffing is all that he can hear in his otherwise silent apartment. He wishes he could hold Simon here right now. 

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” 

And what the fuck is he going to do? Everyone knows now. His mama, his papa, all of Sweden. He’s seen the comments, he’s let everyone down. Everyone hates the monarchy, hates him, and because of him will hate his brother. He’s let Erik down and ruined everything for him. He has to fix this. “I’ll fix it,” is all he says, not knowing if he’s reassuring himself or Simon. His throat is tight and his eyes are burning and blurring with tears. He reaches up to rub at his chest but it doesn’t help his breathing slow down.

“How?”

“I don’t know. I need time to figure everything out.”

“That’s what you always say,” Simon responds in barely a whisper, voice shaking. He can hear Simon’s hysterical tone and uneven breaths matching his own, and he knows he doesn’t mean it, that Simon’s panicking and distraught, but Simon’s words still sting. 

“Stay where you are, I’m sending someone to come pick you up at the back door.” 

“Okay…”

They hang up the call and he watches another text from his mother come across the screen. 

Wilhelm, I don’t know what 

your reasons are for doing

what you’ve done, but do 

not go near that boy or 

contact him until we’ve 

prepared a way to fix this. 

He opens his voicemail and finds one from Erik. The sound of his voice helps a little. “Wille, I’m not sure if you’re getting this because I think you might have turned off your phone. I can’t get through to you. Listen, I’m in England right now but I booked a flight home as soon as I could tomorrow morning. Everything’s going to be okay, you’ll get through this. Mama assured me that she’d been in touch with you and that you’re doing okay. I’m not sure if that’s true, but Wille you’re strong and she says she has everything under control.”

The voicemail ends and he opens the next one from his mother. “It looks like we can’t cover this up. We have to address the matter. But we can still deny that it is you in the video. You really can’t see that it is you. So, this is what we’ll do. We’ll hold an interview, and give Rosenqvist exclusive rights to the entire statement. We can trust her and you need to trust her. You also need to trust me Wilhelm, do not see that boy for the time being. It will only set off new rumors and make things worse for both of you. We must solve this first.”

He sits on the floor with his body stopping from collapsing on itself only because he is leaning his back against the sofa. He unbuttons the top of his shirt that now feels like it’s choking him and focuses on inhaling and exhaling at a normal rhythm as he waits for Simon to arrive. 

* * *

When he finally hears a car pulling up to his apartment, he looks out the window to see a swarm of journalists and cameras on the sidewalk below being ushered out of the area. He waits anxiously, chewing on his fingernails in the way that his mother hates, until his security finally clears the area and the dark car pulls around the back entrances. After what feels like an eternity, there is a soft knock on his door and he flings the door open, making it nearly slam against the wall. He and Simon fall into each other, Simon squeezing him tightly and pushing his head against his shoulder, Wille doing the same. He manages an appreciative smile at the bodyguard who says “we’ll be right outside,” before shutting the door. 

The two boys slide back onto the floor where Wille had been waiting for him, Simon sitting with his back against the couch and Wille laying down and putting his head in Simon’s lap. They’re quiet, just letting the calm of each other’s presence break through the pandemonium that this day has been. Simon lays an arm around him, holding him closer and runs his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth and comfort of Simon steady his spinning mind and calm his beating heart.

“They’ve asked me to deny that it was me in the video,” he says finally, breaking their silence.

Simon’s hand in his hair stills. “Are you serious?”

“They want me to make a statement at the castle tomorrow.”

“But you’re not going to do it, right?”

He doesn’t know what to say. “Well I don’t want to say anything, but…”

Simon is quiet, and Wille doesn’t dare move his head from Simon’s lap to look at his face. When he finally speaks again, his voice is softer. “But Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video. When I tried to leave the bar to get here there were a million people with cameras shouting at me… and everyone saw Micke too. Everyone knows that about me now.”

Simon’s hand has fallen away from his hair now, and his body feels tense. “What am I supposed to do?” Wille asks, closing his eyes and turning to lay on his back, head still in Simon’s lap. When he opens his eyes to Simon’s face, he’s staring not down at Wille, but straight forward off into the distance somewhere.

“No matter what, they can’t dictate what you say. I know that this wasn’t how you wanted everyone to find out. I’m not really sure how you wanted anyone to find out, but I’m sorry that you’re in this position because of me. We’re in this together Wille, and I’m here for you. You don’t have to do this alone. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

He closes his eyes again, not able to look up at Simon’s lost and pained expression any further. “No, we haven’t. You’re right. We’re in this together.” The two boys are quiet again for a long while.

“Wille?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know about you but my ass really hurts on this floor.”

He can’t help but smile and exhale a puff of air from his nose at that unexpected statement. He stands up and reaches out a hand that Simon takes, allowing Wille to pull him up to his feet. “Come on,” he says and tugs Simon behind him toward the bedroom. They lay down on the bed, holding onto every part of each other.

“Do they want you to stop seeing me?”

“Yeah, they do. But I don’t want to.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that Sweden isn’t as progressive as it pretends to be. If I were a girl this wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“I don’t want to be with a girl Simon, I want to be with you.”

“Will you tell them that?”

“You’re right, they can’t force me to make that statement. I’m gonna talk to my mom.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“You’ll do just fine. You’re perfect. And you’re brave. I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you.”

Simon presses a kiss to his forehead then lays his back against his chest, letting Wille wrap his arms around Simon and press a kiss to the back of his neck in return. Wille listens to the sound of their breathing together.

“Simon?” Wille says into the dim room that is slowly losing more light as night falls upon them. 

“Yeah?”

He squeezes Simon tighter then rolls him over, pulling him so that they’re face to face on their sides, looking at each other. Wille can’t help but stare into Simon’s infinite dark eyes that are searching his own face, marveling at how Simon let Wille mold his body into a new position like that without question. From the way Simon is looking at him alone, the words are flying around his mind, and this time he can’t keep them trapped inside any longer.

“I love you.”

For what feels like a millennium neither of them move, neither of them breathe, neither of them so much as blink. Then he watches as Simon’s expression changes and his eyes melt with warmth and fondness, becoming glassy with tears. “And you don’t have to say anything back, right now. I just wanted you to know. I don’t want you to feel like you have to- mmph!”

Simon is on top of him before he can register what’s happening, and kissing him so deeply that he’s sure he’ll feel it in his bones for at least another lifetime. He finally becomes coherent enough to wrap his arms around Simon, as Simon’s hands roam indecisively from his cheeks to his jaw to his neck to his hair. Simon finally pulls away, their foreheads still pressed together. 

“I love you too, Wille. So much,” Simon breathes against his lips, sending a shiver through his entire body. Then for some unknown reason, they dissolve into giggles as they pull apart from each other. Wille rolls onto his back and Simon lays his head on his chest, wrapping both arms around him and pressing his body as close to Wille’s as he can get. It feels perfect, and it feels right.

“I think I have for a while now, I just didn’t know it,” Wille finds himself confessing as he traces his fingers along Simon’s arm, pressing a kiss to the top of Simon’s head. Simon holds onto him somehow tighter and says,

“Me too. I think I did know, I just… I just didn’t know what to do with it… because loving is hard for me. And it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just sometimes I don’t know how. But I hope it was obvious, every time I touched you, or kissed you, or was with you. I hope you can feel it.”

“I can,” he whispers into Simon’s curls, drifting off to sleep with the boy he loves.

He sleeps so soundly with the comfort, warmth, and love of Simon blanketing him that he doesn’t wake up to the seven missed phone calls from his mother, or the four from his father, or the countless texts from them both.

* * *

He wakes up to a loud knocking on his front door. Simon wakes up as well and gives Wille a questioning look. Simon slides himself off of him so that Wille can go answer the door. He opens it up to one of the security guards saying, “sir your parents have been trying to reach you. There’s been an accident.”

“What do you mean?”

“Crown Prince Erik, he got into a car accident on the way to the airport. The doctors have assured your parents that he will make a full recovery, but they are keeping him in the hospital for now.”

Erik’s in a car accident. Erik’s hurt. He’s going to be okay? On the way to the airport… the airport that he never would have been going to if it wasn’t for Erik needing to come home early for him. This is all his fault. All his fault. All his-

“Wille it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. This isn’t your fault.” Simon’s voice breaks him out of his spiraling. It’s sometimes terrifying the way that Simon seems to be almost able to read his mind. “Can I touch you?”

Wille finds himself nodding before the question even reaches his brain, and Simon puts his hand on his shoulder, waiting to gauge Wille’s reaction. Needing Simon immediately, he pulls Simon into him, tears rushing out of his eyes and soaking onto Simon’s shirt. 

“Is there anything we can do to help?” The guard asks, and he doesn’t know how to formulate a reply. Why would he need help when Erik is the one in the hospital?

Simon, as always, comes to his rescue. “I think we’ll be okay, I’ll take care of him. Thank you, and thank you for telling us.”

The guard shuts the apartment door, leaving Wille alone and clinging to Simon like a lifeline. He’s supposed to get picked up soon to go to the castle. He hasn’t checked his phone. Is that still happening? His mother probably tried to call him. Is he still supposed to make this statement? How is he supposed to come out when Erik is in the hospital? How is he supposed to come out? How can he ask his mama this when her son is in the hospital? He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe. He moves his head away from where Simon’s shoulder is now soaked in his tears. He opens his mouth to apologize but nothing comes out. His voice isn’t working, his lungs aren’t- he gags and throws up on Simon’s shirt.

Simon seems surprised for only a second before saying “Wille look at me,” voice commanding but gentle, and Wille immediately snaps his focus on Simon. “You’re going to be okay. Erik is okay. Breathe,” Simon says.

He doesn’t know how to tell Simon that he can’t. That Erik being in the accident is his fault. “Your shirt, sorry,” he gasps out instead, for some reason not being able to focus on anything else.

Simon doesn’t even glance down at his shirt. “Don’t worry about it,” he says calmly. And why is he being so calm about this? He’d thrown up on Simon’s shirt so long ago and now he’s done it again. Is he always going to ruin Simon’s clothes? Why would Simon love someone back who’s always so disgusting? Who’s thrown up on him not once but twice now? 

“Hey,” Simon says, putting his hand on his cheek and noticing Wille’s eyes being focused on his shirt. “Here, see? It’s gone.” He takes off his shirt, folds it into itself and rests it on the floor. Simon takes Wille’s hand with his delicate fingers and spreads out Wille’s palm against his chest, over his heart. 

“Breathe with me, in… out. There you go, good. Again.”

He breathes along with Simon, the steady rhythm of Simon’s heartbeat under his hand keeping him focused and grounded in the moment. Finally, his body calms down and he can breathe and think again. 

“Thank you, Simon.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Are you okay?”

He nods, letting his hand drop from Simon’s chest. Simon’s looking at him with so much sincerity and concern that he has the strong urge to kiss him, but considering that he’s just thrown up he decides against that. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve thrown up on you, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice,” he laughs and knocks his head into Simon’s chest, making Simon laugh as well. 

“Who knows,” Simon replies with a shrug, clearly trying to make Wille feel better, “maybe it can be our thing.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing Simon.”

“That is so not what I meant!”

“Mm sounds like it to me,” he says, taking his head off from leaning against Simon so that he can see the embarrassed and blushing expression on his face. It’s difficult to get Simon blushing and embarrassed like this, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t frequently try. Successes like this were rare and he’s not going to stop now. “Does that make you horny Simon?” He asks, pointing down at the shirt on the floor, watching in delight as Simon covers his face with one hand and uses the other to shove Wille backwards.

“Wille you’re actually so disgusting what the fuck?” Simon says, laughing. “I try to help you and you bully me? Wow.”

“Sorry,” Wille shrugs, “you’re too hot and perfect, someone needs to keep your ego in check.”

“By insinuating I have a vomit kink?” Simon’s laughing now, and dammit, once again has the upper hand as Wille feels his own cheeks go red. How does he manage to do that? 

“It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”

“Well I’m telling you on short notice that you’re the one who has to pick up the vomit shirt.”

Wille puts on his best pout, but he just can’t do it like Simon does. Simon laughs again and Wille sighs, rolling his eyes in defeat and taking the shirt to the washing machine, putting in the laundry and then brushing his teeth and using the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. He checks his phone and sees the texts from his parents about the accident, which make him have to focus on his breathing again. Thankfully there’s one from his father twenty minutes ago stating that Erik is alright but staying the night in the hospital, most likely coming home tomorrow. There’s another from his mother telling him when the car will be arriving, and shit that’s soon. He throws on something nice but fairly casual, sure that his mother will have an outfit she wants him to wear picked out and ready at the castle anyways. 

When he comes back out, Simon is buttering toast and placing them on two plates of eggs that each have a bowl of strawberries next to them. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” says Simon, “but you need to leave soon right? If you’re still going? And you shouldn’t go without eating something.”

And god he loves Simon, and now he can finally tell him so. He does so, and Simon’s smile rivals the brightness of the sun. They eat together, and he wishes he could stay here in this moment forever, eating berries and toast and eggs with Simon, who has unfortunately found a shirt to put on. 

The time comes where he has to leave, and he tells Simon that he should probably stay in the apartment, unsure where members of the press could be lurking outside. Simon agrees and he kisses Simon reverently. Before he steps out the door Simon hugs him and tells him he’s brave.

* * *

He steps into the dark car, and his mother is sitting in it, waiting for him.

“Why are we going to the palace and not to see Erik?” He asks, not even sparing time for a hello, but he needs to know.

“I’ve just come from there, Wilhelm. He’s a little bruised and on some pain medication but he’s going to be okay, thank god.”

Wille watches his mother tear up, and he sits there quietly, allowing her to compose herself. He feels sorry for asking, but he needed to know. Erik is his whole world. After a while, he can tell there’s something she wants to say. “What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything? Just live a normal life?”

“You’re the Prince of a nation, and that’s a privilege, not a punishment.”

“I didn’t ask for this!”

She looks at him with a stare made of ice and he knows it was the wrong thing to say. “No one has ever asked for this! You are a part of this family, as am I, as is Erik. Everything you do reflects on us and on him. He will have to take over the throne one day. Do you want him to have to take over a monarchy that has no support because you have decided to not think before you make decisions? He’s going to have to come out of being in the hospital and be faced with all of this. Don’t you want to help him by making the right statement?”

She’s right. If he does this, he’ll put the weight of his entire burden on Erik’s shoulders, and Erik doesn’t deserve that. He already carries enough and has already covered for so many of Wille’s mistakes throughout their lives. Her voice loses its icy edge, and she continues. 

“When you’re young, love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.”

“Simon is not an unfortunate romance!” He blurts out, aware of how immature and petulant he sounds. “I chose him, and he chose me.”

“I understand that. What I mean is, is this really worth it? If you feel the attention you’ve gotten so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life.”

“I will endure it then. It’s all worth it if that means I can be with him.”

“You might be able to, but can he? You’ve grown up in the media, you understand. He has not. Will he really be able to handle cameras pointed at him wherever he goes, people questioning him, reporters digging into his life and information about his father? Even if he can, do you want that for him? We have a chance to cover this up, to allow Simon to not have journalists knocking on his door and harassing him at every turn wanting to know about his father’s addictions and abuse. I urge you to take that chance. You will not get another.”

* * *

When he returns back to his apartment, Simon is gone. 

Chapter Text

Simon’s POV

After Wille leaves he doesn’t quite know what to do. He peeks outside, and now that Wilhelm’s security have gone, the press are arriving once again outside the front of the apartment building. He feels quite bad for anyone else that lives here. Wille was right, he should definitely stay here. The nerves of everything that’s happened are starting to run through him again so he decides to busy himself by washing the breakfast dishes first. The water running over the plate and over his hands calms him down a little. He’s always done this, “stress cleaned,” as his mom used to call it. 

When he was a kid his room used to be fairly messy all the time. He just had better things to do than make sure all his laundry was folded, which made his mama laugh. But as he got older and the yelling and the drinking and the drugs got worse, his room got cleaner. 

As he watches the strawberry juice run off the plate and down the drain his mind wanders. 

I love you. 

Three words. Three words that are the most mysterious in the world. Three words that connect you to something greater than yourself. Three words that give an all encompassing comforting support while simultaneously knocking you off balance. It is belonging, it is completeness, it is peace. Wille’s three words that make him feel like he can do anything, make him feel like he is everything. He has never felt like enough, and yet, with three little words whispered to him in an apartment kitchen, he feels like he is. 

He remembers a book he’s read, Letters to Milena , and a quote that he remembers highlighting and thinking over because of its beauty. He’d simply thought it was nice to read and well written, longing for that kind of feeling but never truly understanding what it was, because he had never experienced it. But now he knows just how true those words on the pages are. “I need all the time I have, and a thousand times more than all the time I have, and most of all I'd like to have all the time there is just for you, for thinking about you, for breathing in you.”

* * *

A few hours later, he gets a text from Ayub. 

Ayub: I’m so sorry, are you okay??

He’s not exactly sure why Ayub’s asking him again about the video when Ayub had already called him asking if he was alright when Simon was in the car on the way over here. 

Simon: yeah, I’m doing okay? Why are you asking about the video again? 

Ayub: I’m not asking about the video, I’m asking about Wilhelm’s statement.

Simon: his statement’s out already? 

Ayub: yeah… you haven’t seen it? 

Simon: no?

Ayub: You’ll be okay Simon, the prince is an idiot, don’t worry about him.

Simon: Ayub you’re freaking me out, what did he say?!?!!

Ayub: [link]

Simon clicks on the link to the article, and for the second time in the span of two days, can’t believe what he’s reading. 

“The Prince says, ‘That’s not me in the video.’ The Royal court denies the rumors that the Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week. ‘I started university to focus on my studies and have therefore chosen not to get involved with any emotional relationships,’ says the Prince. ‘Everyone should be allowed to live gay or straight or whatever they want…’”

Simon stops reading, his eyes are too blurred with tears to see the rest of the words anyway. His phone starts ringing then. 

He never loved you.

One missed call from Wille ❤️

He never wanted you.

Two missed calls from Wille ❤️

You were never enough for him

Three missed calls from Wille ❤️

You will never be enough for anyone. 

.

.

.

Wilhelm’s POV

He checks every room of the apartment, hoping to find Simon in one of them, even though he knows he won’t. He needs Simon to understand why he had to do what he did. He tries calling Simon again, but it goes straight to voicemail once again. He sends him a text instead.

Wille: Simon, please, I need to see you 

He watches as the three typing bubbles appear and disappear over and over from Simon. 

Simon: I’m not sure if I want to see you

Wille: please, I need to explain. Where are you? 

The message is marked as seen, but this time the typing bubbles don’t even appear. He turns back, exits through the back entrance once again and steps into the car. 

Wille: I’m on my way, meet me in the music room

Wille: please

.

.

.

Simon’s POV

Wille: I’m on my way, meet me in the music room

Wille: please

The music room… where he’d had his heart fractured by Wilhelm once and now where he is about to have it shattered by him again. 

* * *

He arrives at the open doorway, taking a breath to steady himself before stepping into the room. Wilhelm’s back is facing toward him, staring out the window, but he turns to face him as soon as Simon steps into the room. 

“Simon…” Wille says softly, like it’s some sort of plea. Like Simon’s just supposed to understand everything he wants to say just from hearing his own name. And for some reason, that takes all his sadness and pain, and turns it into anger.

“What is it exactly that you made me come here to say to me?” He knows he sounds caustic, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Simon you don’t understand, it was the only way to protect both of us.” Wille looks pale and on the verge of tears, not too far away from how he’d looked this morning. 

“What is it exactly that I don’t understand? It’s very clear to me that it was the only way to protect your reputation.”

“That’s exactly what you don’t understand! The shitstorm that will happen if I come out. The media will attack me, and more importantly they’ll attack you!”

He shakes his head, not even knowing what to say. “I wasn’t asking you to come out. But I can handle myself. You decided what you thought I would want without ever asking me. And you denied that we ever existed.”

“In order to protect you and your family! So you wouldn’t have to deal with the media hounding you. Or asking questions about your dad?”

The mention of Micke makes his whole body feel aflame. It’s like he’s been on the verge of igniting all day and Wilhelm has just tossed the final spark necessary for the explosion. “To protect me and my family? Or to protect my fucking addict of a father from tainting your precious monarchy.”

“I-” Wilhelm sputters, looking stunned, but Simon doesn’t give him time to say more. He can’t handle it.

“You promised me! Before we-” his voice breaks, and he hates that he has allowed himself to be so broken in front of this boy who doesn’t care about him so many times. “Before we slept together for the first time I asked you. I told you then how much it would hurt me if we did this and then you pretended like nothing happened, and you promised me!”

“I’m sorry,” Wilhelm says, starting to take a step toward Simon, tears now flowing down his pale and morose face.

“You’re sorry?” He spits out.

Wilhelm hesitates and doesn’t step forward after all, shifting his body back to remain where it was. “Yes I’m sorry okay? I didn’t lie then Simon, I did promise. I wanted to be with you! I want to be with you! I just thought I had more time to figure everything out then.”

“And I was fine with letting you figure things out, no matter if it hurt me sometimes, because I didn’t want to pressure you into anything you weren’t comfortable doing. And I did that because I actually thought you wanted to figure things out. You should be able to make your decisions on your own time and no one should stand in the way of that.” He can feel his own tears burning his eyes now, mirroring Wilhelm’s but he continues onward. “Being discreet so that you’d be able to come out to the people you care about on your own terms is one thing, a thing that you never actually specified to me but I figured out that you probably wanted, so I went along with it. I never knew that you wanted me to be your secret forever.”

“You weren’t going to be a secret forever. I just needed a little more time to figure out how to do that. I didn’t expect someone to film us Simon! That isn’t my fault.”

“No, it’s not your fault. And I understand that, more than anyone because I’m in that video too. But it is your fault for what you said. No one can dictate what you say except you, and you chose to pretend like I mean nothing to you.”

“Simon, I never said I feel like you mean nothing to-”

“-I was willing to wait as long as you needed so you could do what was best for you. But you completely denying that I ever existed, and therefore claiming that everything we had, whatever it was, meant absolutely nothing to you, makes it very clear how you feel.”

If he stays in this room any longer with Wilhelm looking like that, he’ll start crying tears that will never stop, and that’s the last thing he wants so he turns on his heel before Wilhelm can even respond and walks out of the room. To his relief, Wilhelm doesn’t follow. 

He never loved you. And you should have never let yourself love him. 

* * *

He gets back to his dorm and thank god Sara is not around. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do when she inevitably finds him. She must have checked here already when he was in the music room, if the dozen texts from her are anything to go by. 

He doesn’t have the energy to text her back, or even the energy to stand. He lays down on his bed and it feels like he doesn’t even have the energy to breathe. 

He can’t go back to what he used to do at night or the way he used to live before. Not after being touched the way that Wilhelm touched him. He can’t feel their rougher movements and harsher words when he’s experienced the gentleness and pleasure that Wille provided. No matter how badly he wants to distract himself from the thoughts of seeing his father high out of his mind on television, or the image of tears flowing down Wille’s face, he can’t just go find some boy like he used to. 

Because now there’s only one boy he wants. There’s only one boy whose kisses he longs for. Only one boy who’s embrace he needs. One boy who’s words and comfort he wishes to hear. And only one boy who’s touch he desperately desires. And that boy has broken every last piece of whatever was left of Simon’s heart. 

There’s a soft knock on his door, and he hears it creak open in the darkness of the room after a few moments of him making no movement to go answer it.

“Simon?” He hears his sister’s voice reach out into the dark. “Are you in here?” She reaches to turn on a light and he braces himself for the inevitable I told you so.

It doesn’t come. 

Instead he gets her sympathy, which is somehow so much worse. “I’m sorry Simon. I saw what he said,” she says, sitting down on the bed. “I know you really liked him.”

“Does it really matter anyway?” he replies, still staring at the ceiling.

“Of course it matters! Simon whenever you talk about him your whole face lights up, you were-”

“-wrong. I was wrong… If you expect to be hurt by someone, then you’ll be far less disappointed. Isn’t that our thing?”

“No. And I was wrong for coming up with that. That’s not- you deserve better than that.”

“I’m starting to think that I don’t.”

“Simon, just because the prince-”

“-I don’t want to talk to you about him anymore.”

“Do you want me to go get Ayub… or Rosh?”

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore with anyone.”

Seeing that he’s not going to change his mind, Sara nods, turning the light off again as she leaves and quietly clicking the door shut. 

What he said was a lie. There is one person he wants to talk to about Wille. 

“Mama?” He whispers into the silent room. And in the darkness, his tears finally fall.

.

.

.

Wilhelm’s POV

He doesn’t know where Simon’s gone, he’s not answering his texts, and it’s obvious Simon doesn’t want to see him. He’s fucked everything up. He had the most wonderful, beautiful, human being in existence and now, like always, he’s ruined it. Simon probably never wants to see him again. It makes sense. Wille would never want to see himself again if he had the choice either. 

His thoughts turn to his brother, and he pulls out his phone to search the visiting hours of the hospital. It closes in thirty minutes, and it will take him almost that amount of time to get there. Shit. He needs to see Erik. Needs to make sure at least one person he loves is okay. He doesn’t like pulling rank, would much rather be treated the same as everyone else, but maybe this once he’ll use his title to get special treatment. Hopefully they’ll agree to extend visiting hours just for him.

For what feels like the millionth time that day, he steps into the back of the black car, and one of his bodyguards drives him to the hospital. He hasn’t heard anything else about Erik in the last few hours. Is he still okay? Has anything changed? How will he look? His mind is still racing as the car pulls up to the front entrance. 

Wille walks through the sliding automatic doors, followed closely by two bodyguards. “Hi,” he says to the woman in the front desk, glancing down at her name tag that says “Linnea.” “Linnea, I’m Wilhelm, and I was wondering if I could visit my brother?”

“Visiting hours are closed for today Wilhelm, I’m afraid I can’t let you visit until tomorrow.”

He takes off his hat and pulls down his scarf, watching as recognition spreads its way across her face. “Your Majesty,” she begins, “my apologies, I didn’t recognize you. Are you here to see His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Erik?”

“Yes, I won’t be too long, if you could make an exception just this once?”

“Yes, of course,” she stammers out, typing swiftly into her keyboard. He hates making people feel nervous like this. If they only knew how much of a nervous anxious wreck he is himself most of the time. “He’s on floor two in room 212.”

“Thank you,” he replies, relief that he’s actually going to get to see his brother flowing through him. As he walks up the stairs and down the hallway, the same worries that were plaguing him in the car return. He swallows and slides the room door open anyway, and Erik sits up when he sees him.

“Wille,” Erik smiles, sounding happy to see him, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” Wille replies, assessing the visible damage. He doesn’t look that bad off, various scrapes and bruises, as well as his arm being in a sling. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m not too bad Wille, I’m fine. They’ve just been holding me hostage here, you know, can’t be too careful when it comes to the Crown Prince.”

He knows Erik’s joking but he can’t bring himself to laugh when he notices Erik being in some sort of pain as he tries to shift his position toward Wille.

“I’m more worried about you,” Erik continues, “I assume you’ve put out your statement by now.”

“Yeah… wait, you assume?”

“My phone kinda shattered in the accident, and if you haven’t noticed I’ve been a bit confined here,” he smiles, “I know that having everyone find out about you and Simon through that video is definitely not how you would have wanted it to happen, but does it feel at least a little good to have it out there now? And to have gotten to confirm it in a professional statement?”

“I umm,” he begins, not really knowing what to say. Erik thinks that he confirmed being… whatever he is in the interview? “I didn’t confirm it, mama thought it best to deny it.”

“What?” Erik says, moving a bit too sharply and grimacing from the fast movement. “You denied it? Why?”

“I had to! I wasn’t going to, but Erik I don’t even know what I am. If I’m gay, I don’t think I am, but I don’t know what I would even come out as. And then she told me all the harm that would come to Simon if I confirmed us and I just couldn’t do that to him. And now I’ve ruined everything with him.”

He doesn’t know when he’s started crying, but his cheeks are warm and damp, and he can taste salt on his lips. 

“Wille, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

“No,” Wille says, he’s being a horrible brother to Erik. “I came here to visit you. To make sure you were okay. You’ve been in an accident and you’re hurt and you shouldn’t be having to comfort me, I’m supposed to be here for you.”

“The doctors are here for that Wille, and I told you I’m fine, just a little banged up. I’m more worried about you right now. I can’t believe our mother did that. She told me that you were going to give a statement and by the way she made it sound I thought what you said was going to be up to you. If I had known…”

“This isn’t your fault, it’s mine. And even though Simon probably hates me, I have to keep him safe. I don’t want him to have to go through journalists attacking him and asking questions about his family.”

“We can protect him from that in other ways, mama shouldn’t have made you lie about you and him. Is she here too? Let me talk to her.”

“No, I came alone. And fuck I was too scared to think of other options. I’m such an idiot. And now he never wants to see me again.”

Erik pulls him into a one armed hug, angling the other arm that’s in a sling away from him. Despite knowing that he should be the one comforting Erik’s pain, not the other way around, he allows himself the embrace. 

“How do you know Simon never wants to see you again? Did you talk to him?”

“He didn’t respond to any of my calls, and when I went back to my apartment, he was gone. I met him in the music room at University and I finally talked to him there. He was so upset, Erik. I can’t believe I did that to him.” All he can think of is the way Simon was looking at him in the room, tears in his eyes but never falling, his expression displaying more sadness and hurt than he’d ever seen on Simon, even when he’d shown up at Wille’s apartment covered in bruises and blood.

“But what did he say?” Erik’s voice sounds like it’s coming from a tunnel a hundred miles away. “Wille?” He looks back at Erik and forces himself to focus on his voice. “What did Simon say exactly? Not your version, Simon’s exact words.”

“Um, he said, he said he was okay with letting me figure things out even if it hurt him because he didn’t want to pressure me into anything I wasn’t comfortable with, but that he did it because he thought I was trying to figure things out. He said he never knew that I wanted him to be my secret forever.” He takes a deep breath, knowing he’s speaking way too fast and that Erik probably can’t even decipher anything he’s saying. He watches Erik’s face, expressionless taking it all in, and continues. “He said no one can dictate what I say except me, and I chose to pretend like he meant nothing to me. And that’s not true Erik! He means everything to me!” 

Erik nods in understanding, so he finishes, out of breath by the time he finishes blurting everything out. “He told me that he was willing to wait as long as I needed, but that I made it very clear to him how I feel because I denied that he existed.”

Erik is quiet for a moment, and Wille’s heart is beating out of his chest. “I think he’s right,” Erik says finally, and Wille wants to throw up again. “But I don’t think he never wants to see you again, or that he hates you.”

“What?”

“He’s right. What you said, or didn’t say, hurt him a lot. And I’m not blaming you for that, I know how convincing Mama can be, and I can only imagine what she said to you, but it was still you that made the statement in the end.” Erik is looking at him intensely, and for someone who’s just been in a car accident, he looks so strong and sure. “I can see how much Simon means to you, and you have to make him see that too. If he’s worth it to you, Wille, make it right.”

“He’s worth it to me.”

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

When he gets out of the hospital from visiting Erik, it’s dark outside. Instead of going back to his apartment however, he tells his security to take him to the palace. He feels bad for making them drive him around all over creation today and even into the night. He sets a reminder in his phone to thank them all another day and perhaps buy them lunch or something.

It’s nearly 10 pm when he arrives at the palace, and he walks as fast as he can, forcing one foot in front of the other no matter how much he wants to run in the opposite direction. He doesn’t have a plan exactly, all he knows is that Erik’s right. Simon’s worth everything, and he’s prepared to do anything for him. 

He turns the corner and knocks on the door to his mother’s office. “Mama, it’s me.”

The door opens and his mother looks surprised to see him for a moment, before she schools her face back into an unreadable expression. “Wilhelm. What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” he says, forcing his voice to remain steady despite his nerves making him feel jumpy.

“Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? It’s nearly ten o'clock, Wilhelm.”

“It’s important. It’s about me and Simon.”

“Don’t worry. That matter has been handled, there is nothing more to say,” she says too calmly, which makes Wille want to be anything but calm right now.

“There is plenty more to say actually,” he responds, feeling a newfound confidence and anger surging out of him. “I want to be with him, and I don’t care how that reflects on the monarchy.” He knows that’s the wrong thing to say, especially by how her eyes are narrowing, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Sweden is supposed to be a progressive country,” he says, repeating what Simon had said to him before. “If he was a girl, this wouldn’t be a big deal. It might be in some headlines, but then it would disappear. And you wouldn’t have forced me to deny it.”

“That simply isn’t true, Wilhelm.”

“It is. You’re always pushing me toward Felice, because that’s your ideal match. Someone rich, someone proper, and someone who’s female. But that’s not who I’ve fallen in love with. I’ve fallen in love with him.” He thought admitting that out loud would be terrifying, but it isn’t. Somehow his love for Simon only makes him feel stronger, not weaker. 

“I’m not dissuading you from being with him because I’m not progressive. We just hosted that lgbtq charity event last year. I’m just trying to protect you Wilhelm. You’ve proven in the past to be unable to handle so much attention and if you go down this path, the attention will be much worse. And it will be much worse for that boy too.”

She almost had him again. Had almost made his anxiety too much to the point where he believed he couldn’t do this. But then she said that boy , in that tone, and his anger overcame his fear. “That boy’s name is Simon,” he says confidently, “and I’d like Sweden to know that.”

“What are you saying Wilhelm?” She huffs at him.

“I want to release another statement. The truth this time.”

“And then what?” She asks, surprising him. “Do you think the people will like you or him then, after you confirm that you’ve lied to them? I know this is important to you, but the people must have faith in us. How will they want to support us, to support your brother if they feel we are deceiving them?”

“We are deceiving them. And the truth is better late than never. And Erik supports me too, so you can stop trying to use him to manipulate me.”

“I am not trying to manipulate you, Wilhelm. I know you must think I’m a terrible mother, and that I’m doing this on purpose. But I’m not trying to make you miserable, I’m trying to protect you. The world is a cruel place, and there are so many things you don’t understand. I won’t allow you to release another statement.”

He stands there, not knowing what to do as his mother walks away. He pulls out his phone and sends Simon a text.

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Simon’s POV

He wakes up to someone knocking on his door. He picks up his phone, and there’s a text from Wille. 

Wille: I need to talk to you, it’s important. I’m sorry. Can we please meet somewhere? 

His heart clenches, and he distracts himself by  checking the time, realizing that it’s almost noon. He’s missed his morning class. He finds that he can’t bring himself to care. The knocking starts up again, and he shouts, “go away Sara, I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Actually, it’s Rosh,” he hears Rosh’s voice say. “Sara let me up.” Surprised, he sighs and untangles himself from his blankets that he’d had himself wrapped up in. His clothes from the day before are still on, he hadn’t had the energy to take them off. 

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and opens the door. Rosh is standing there with a sandwich wrapped up and a Coke. “Hey,” she says, more gently than she usually talks, and he’s a little unsettled by it. He knows she’s just being nice to him because of everything, but it feels like all his emotions have been dialed up to eleven and he is fighting back the urge to tell her he wants to be alone.

“What are you doing here?” He says at the exact same time that she asks, “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah,” he says, stepping aside at the same time that Rosh says “Sara sent me.”

“Okay,” she says, setting the sandwich and Coke down on his desk before turning to shove his shoulder lightly. “Shut up, and stop talking at the same time as me.”

He smiles a little bit at her more familiar demeanor, before his traitorous mind makes him think of all the things he doesn’t want to be thinking about, and he feels his smile disappear. 

“Sara wanted to make sure you ate something,” she says, gesturing to the sandwich, “and I was on my way over here anyways.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t at work last night. And you’ve never missed a shift. You always get someone to cover for you way beforehand.”

“Shit, were you there by yourself?” 

“Yeah,” Rosh replies, and must notice how shit he feels for doing that to her because she says, “it wasn’t that busy, I managed okay. I was more worried about you though.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Not like you haven’t covered my ass a million times when we were younger…” she pauses before saying, “I saw what Wilhelm said. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I don’t know what we were anyways.”

I love you. He tells his mind to shut the fuck up.

She takes his hand, something he only ever remembers her doing once before, when they were younger and he came out to her, and then she came out to him immediately after. One of her hands grabs the sandwich and she pulls him with the other to sit on the bed. “Eat,” she says.

He looks at the sandwich and his stomach turns. “I’m not really hungry,” he says in reply and his stomach betrays him by growling right at that moment.

“Don’t argue with me Simon, you know you always lose.” She squeezes his hand before letting go and putting the sandwich in his lap. He looks at her, challenging, and she matches his stare, challenging him right back. “If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to eat at least some of it.”

He sighs in defeat, before tentatively picking it up and taking a bite. And fuck, he hadn’t noticed how hungry he really was. He hasn’t eaten in almost twenty four hours. He finishes the rest of the sandwich a little too quickly and Rosh just sits there next to him. When he’s done she asks, “what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Sara said you missed class this morning. Are you gonna go tomorrow? Or to work tonight?”

He sighs. This isn’t the first terrible day or night he’s had in his life, and it certainly won’t be the last. If his father’s taught him one thing, it’s that you get back up after being knocked down. “Yeah,” he says, “I’ll be there.”

“Good. Because if you don’t then you let them win. You’re better than all the weird ass internet comments and articles. And you’re better than some prince who pretends like you don’t exist. There’s someone better out there for you, don’t worry.”

And he’s not worried, because there isn’t someone better out there for him. Or not someone he wants anyway. His thoughts wander back to Wilhelm again, like they always do, and he thinks maybe he fell back to sleep and started dreaming again because Wille himself appears in his doorway. 

Then Rosh stands up, looks Wille dead in the eye and says “what the fuck are you doing here?” And he knows it’s certainly not a dream after all.

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Wilhelm’s POV

“What the fuck are you doing here?” A tall, dark haired girl addresses him, standing up from Simon’s bed where Simon is sitting. It takes a moment for him to recognize her, before realizing it’s Rosh, who he’d met the night he was extremely drunk at the bar. Simon’s dressed in the same clothes as the day before, and his curls look messy as if he’s just woken up. Judging by the unmade bed, he’d say he had. Simon’s eyes look dark, dull and tired, a far cry from the twinkling warmth that Wille’s become used to, and even come to crave. A pang reverberates in his heart at the thought that he’s the one that’s done this to Simon. He’s the one that’s taken away the mischievous spark in Simon’s expression.

“Well?” Rosh’s harsh voice snaps him out of where he’s been staring at Simon. “What do you want with him?”

Wille opens his mouth to answer, not really knowing what to say but Simon speaks first. “Rosh, please stop,” he says with a gravelly, harsh, whisper. 

“No,” Rosh says, turning from looking at Simon and back to him. “Why are you here?”

“I need to talk to Simon, please,” he manages to say, trying to sound confident and sure. 

His words don’t do anything to ease Rosh’s expression, in fact making her appear even more angry at him, and rightfully so. He’s glad at least Simon hasn’t been alone after he’d royally fucked everything up. Literally. 

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” Simon says in an even tone, standing up and handing the plate he’s been holding to Rosh. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Rosh seems to accept this at least a little bit, because she takes the plate from Simon and steps toward the doorway where Wille’s standing. He steps aside to let her pass and she wordlessly glares at him as she steps by him into the hallway. The second she reaches the hallway she stops walking and turns around, eyeing him up and down as if she can figure out what exactly his intentions are. His hypothesis proves to be right.

“I don’t know what it is that you have to say to him,” Rosh says, piercing glare on him unwavering, “but it better be the best and most no bullshit speech you’ve ever given. Simon deserves the world, and you have no idea how much you’ve hurt him.”

And she’s right. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. Simon does deserve the world. He deserves perfection because he is perfection personified. Simon is an angel from heaven and all he’s done is subject Simon to hell. But then his eyes can’t help but feel the magnetic pull toward Simon, and with one quick glance at him Wille knows there is no world where he can walk away from him. He swallows and nods at Rosh, and she looks to Simon before making her exit down the hallway. 

With Rosh gone, the energy of the air changes, and it feels thick with so many emotions, regret, sadness, guilt, hurt. Simon is watching him silently, almost looking like an entirely different boy than the one that Wille has come to know. He’s so caught up in remembering every detail and line of hurt on Simon’s face that it takes a while for him to register that he’s the one that’s shown up here and therefore the one who should probably talk first.

“Can I um…” he begins, not a great start. “Can I come in?”

Simon gaze lingers on him for a moment, as if he’s unsure what exactly to do. Then he gives an almost imperceptible nod and walks over to the windowsill, sitting most of his weight on it. Wille steps into the room slowly, the familiarity of the room seeming so close but so far. The last time he was in here the air was light, with erasers being thrown at each other and giggling kisses each time an answer was gotten right. Now the air is heavy, and he doesn’t know where to start to clear it. He figures an apology is the best place to start.

“Simon…” There are so many things he wants to say, and they all get stuck in his throat the second Simon looks up at him with those warm chocolate brown eyes, soulless and broken. 

“Why are you here Wille?” Simon sighs out, like he doesn’t have enough energy left in him to even speak.

“I need to say I’m sorry. For everything. You’re the best person I know, and you deserve the whole world. But instead of giving everything to you, for you like I should have, I just took. And you don’t deserve that Simon. You deserve everything. I know what I did was horrible. I never should have denied we existed. I know you don’t owe it to me to believe anything I say, but I hope you do when I say you mean everything to me. I was scared and I know that’s no excuse. But I want to be brave… for you, and for me.

You don’t have to give me a second chance, or I guess now it’s more like a third or fourth chance, I don’t even know, but I promise this is the last one I’ll ever ask for. I-” he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I love you Simon. I’ve never meant anything more than those words. I know I hurt you and I don’t deserve you, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting you and only you. It feels like you occupy every one of my thoughts. And if you don’t feel the same anymore, I understand, but I just wanted you to know. I didn’t want to not talk to you again without you knowing just how much I love you. And how you have always been, and always will be so much more than enough.”

Simon has stayed completely still, expression unreadable during Wille’s entire speech. So still that it seems like Simon wasn’t even breathing, like he was trying to disappear, but at Wille’s final words Simon lets out a shaky exhale, his whole body seeming to sink against the windowsill as he tilts his head toward the ground before shaking it back and forth ever so slightly. 

He takes this to mean Simon doesn’t like his apology, either doesn’t believe it or doesn’t want it. He shouldn’t have come. He can’t stand to have his last memory of Simon be one where Simon is staring down at the floor because he hates him so much that he won’t even look at him. Wille hates himself too for all the mistakes he’s made. He turns toward the door, knowing that he should probably leave. At that moment Simon looks back up at him, and it’s like Simon’s finally really looking at him this time, eyes glistening with tears and a pouting bottom lip that’s trembling imperceptibly. He blinks away his tears and then speaks more firmly than Wille was expecting. 

“My whole life all I’ve ever wanted was to be enough for everyone, and I never was. And here you are, telling me that I’m enough, and it doesn’t feel any different.”

Now Wille’s the one shaking his head, at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say to fix this, but it’s clear that Simon’s not done speaking so he stays quiet, watching as Simon slides his weight off the windowsill and stands up straight, looking Wille straight in the eye.

“I gave my heart to you, Wilhelm. Despite everything that I’ve gone through in my life, every event in my past, and every rational thought in my head telling me not to, I chose to give my heart to you, because I thought that you wanted to give me yours too. But I was wrong. And now I don’t know that I have enough of my heart left to forgive you.”

Wille actually feels his heart break. He feels it clench and shatter in his chest, and it’s like he doesn’t know how to breathe anymore. He has never loved someone in the way he loves Simon, and has never lost in the way he’s lost him now. This is truly the end for them then, there’s nothing he can do to change that. Even so, he can’t leave with Simon thinking that he didn’t want to give his heart to him. That’s all he wanted, and all he wants. Simon has been the sole owner of his heart since the day they first met, and even if they never speak again, Wille knows that’s never going to change. Somehow, some way, his heart will always belong to Simon. 

“You weren’t wrong,” he says, pleading, needing Simon to know, even though he knows it won’t change anything. “I did want to give all of my heart to you.”

He savors every detail of Simon, his warm, dark, almond shaped eyes, his dark curls that Wille will never forget the feeling of running his fingers through, his brown skin, warm and soft to the touch, the way his nose scrunches up as well as his eyes when he laughs and smiles, and the way his lips press together into a smirk when he’s trying not to.

He’s so wrapped up in his steady, never ending thoughts of the other boy that he almost doesn’t hear him whisper out “I know.”

There is a silence that falls between them, but the air is different as they stare at each other, neither one seeming to know if so much as blinking will disrupt their universe. “You know…” Wilhelm begins, needing to understand. “You know that I do love you?”

Simon’s eyes move back to the ground, and he nods, before meeting Wille’s eyes again. “It’s easier to pretend that you don’t.”

“Why?” He questions, already knowing the answer. Simon replies, and it turns out that he did not in fact know the correct answer at all.

“Because then it’s easier to not forgive you. I told you, I don’t know that I can handle forgiving you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. Despite everything you said, and every time you tried to hide me, I still knew that maybe you still loved me. And I loved you right back. And fuck you Wille, I still love you right back. But it doesn’t change anything. I’m still a secret and I…”

Simon looks like he’s battling his own mind. Like there’s words he’s trying to say that he’s never had the courage to even think before. Simon’s eyes break away from Wille’s and seem to settle somewhere far far away from this dorm room, before they fix back on him again. “I deserve better.”

Simon looks almost proud of himself for saying that, and Wille can’t help but feel proud of him too. Simon does deserve better. And Simon… still loves him? What? Why? How? What does that mean? But it doesn’t change anything… But it can change everything. He can change something. Simon loves him. And he loves Simon. And fuck it, he loves Simon enough to ruin his whole life for him. He’s spent enough time with Simon, and more than enough time without him to know that he doesn’t want to live in a world where it isn’t the two of them together against everything. His mother may have barred him from releasing a professional statement from the press, but that doesn’t mean he has to keep it a secret. He wants this, and she can’t stop him.

“You do deserve better Simon,” he begins, feeling more confident in what he wants to do than he has in a long time. The question that makes him so nervous that he feels like he’s going to drop to his knees, is will Simon want it too? He steps toward Simon, and Simon doesn’t back away, so he continues. “I want to give you better. I want to give you everything. You wanted to be enough Simon? Well you are enough. I said it before and I’ll say it again a thousand times until you believe me. You have always been so much more than enough, even if fucking idiots like me have made you feel like that’s not true.”

“Wille?” Simon questions in barely a whisper, almost no noise actually falling from his lips. His eyes are flickering back and forth between Wille’s, and Wille can’t take the time to decipher whatever emotions are behind them, because he has to finish what he has to say.

“I want you. And I don’t want to take that back. And I don’t want that to be a secret. I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved. And I don’t know if I’m capable of that, but I want to try. I want there to be an us.”

Simon’s eyes are searching him in his entirety, confusion and uncertainty still etched all over his face, so Wille steps forward again and reaches down to Simon’s hand, intertwining just their pinkies. Surprisingly, Simon lets him, but his trepidation is still evident throughout his body so Wille takes more of his fingers, lacing them together so they’re intertwined tightly with no plans of ever letting go. 

“I don’t want you to be a secret.”

Simon inhales, lips parting slightly in surprise and eyes blinking in confusion. “What? What do you mean?” Simon finally makes out, after several beats of Wille watching his dumbfounded expression and feeling Simon’s hand scarcely trembling in his.

“I mean if you want me, if somehow you find a way to forgive me, I want you. And I don’t care if people know. I want to be what we were before, and I want to be more. But without any of the stupid, scared, secretiveness shit that I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to accept before.”

Simon blinks up at him through his eyelashes, looking shy all of a sudden, before reaching out and trepidatiously tucking a piece of Wille’s hair behind his ear with his slender fingers, before tracing Wille’s cheekbone and down to his lips, almost as if he is checking if Wille is really real beneath his fingers. And Simon is so beautiful. So, so, impossibly beautiful, and- kissing him? Simon’s kissing him, his lips soft, and sweet and pliant between Wille’s. Wille lets out his breath into Simon slowly, feeling as if he can finally breathe again for what feels like the first time in forever. His chest is fluttering, his heart beating so fast he feels light headed, as he tries to savor every last bit of feeling Simon’s pressing into him.

He feels like he’s dissolving into Simon, letting his hands rest on Simon’s waist, and Simon responds by leaning more against him, wrapping his arms around Wille’s shoulders and letting him hold up all of his weight. It feels right, that Wille is now supporting all of Simon. That Simon is trusting him to do that in more ways than one. 

For all the time they’ve been apart, there is no heat behind the kiss. It is slow, and deep, almost as if they’re trying to melt into one. Despite it all, he can’t get enough of Simon, his taste, his smell, the feeling of Simon’s hands in his hair, all of it simultaneously somehow a dream and yet all so real. 

It feels like he’s returning to his own body, Simon making him feel so many shades of loved, wanted, needed, cherished. He tilts his head in order to get a better angle, to kiss Simon deeper, to make him feel all those things back the best he can. He tilts his head a little further and a traitorous strand of his hair falls in the way between them, making Simon giggle as it tickles their noses which makes them break apart slightly. And oh the exquisite, sublime, magnificent sound of Simon’s laughter. Simon reaches and runs his fingers through Wille’s hair, brushing it back. When he starts to lower his hand, Wille grabs Simon’s wrist with his hand and presses a kiss to it, which makes Simon try to hide a beautiful, blushing smile. 

Not letting go of Simon’s wrist, he guides Simon’s hand and places it against his own chest on top of his heart, the warmth of Simon’s fingers against the fabric of his shirt spreading fireworks throughout his body. Slowly their heavy breathing subsides, and his rapid heartbeat slows below Simon’s hand. Simon lays his forehead against Wille’s and closes his eyes, and Wille holds Simon’s hand below his own against his chest. 

“I love you Simon,” he says, hoping Simon can feel his heart beating for him and him alone. 

Simon nods against his forehead and reaches to hold Wille’s face in his hands, brushing their noses together twice before breaking apart. He understands immediately that Simon’s not ready to say it back to him again yet, but he knows that Simon feels the same. 

As they pull apart, Wille can see the possibility of a glimmer of trust starting to shine in Simon’s eyes again, and though the kiss was a homecoming, this is the true gift. 

“What is our plan now?” Simon asks. Our plan. And the concept of that makes Wille giddy. Things won’t just be Wille’s plans any longer. They’ll be their plans.

And so Wille tells him.

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

Simon is quiet for a moment as he considers Wille’s plan. His hands are still on Simon’s waist, and Simon’s hands are snaked around his shoulders, but he can feel Simon wringing his hands together behind his neck. 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Simon asks, and Wille’s positive that he’s sure. He’s nervous, and his stomach feels like it’s dropped into his toes, and there’s fear and worry about what the outcome and backlash will be, but he’s sure. 

He nods and makes sure to hold Simon’s gaze in order for Simon to see that this is truly what he wants. “I am, I promise. You don’t deserve to be a secret.”

“I know but…” Simon begins, obviously having much to say but trying to formulate the best way to say it. He drops his arms from around Wille’s shoulders and Wille instantly misses the weight of Simon’s arms on him. Thinking Simon wants space, he takes his hands off Simon’s waist, but Simon quickly grabs his arms before he’s even fully let go and plants them back on his own waist where they were. Simon chuckles sheepishly at himself and knocks his forehead against Wille’s shoulder, letting it rest there. “I just want you to be sure,” he says into Wille’s shirt. 

Wille pulls Simon by the waist all the way into him and squeezes his arms around the smaller boy, pushing their bodies together into an embrace and basking in the familiar wonderful scent of Simon. Simon props his chin up on Wille’s shoulder and puts his own arms around Wille again, holding each other tightly in the hug. “I am sure Simon, I promise,” he says, hoping that he sounds sure of himself even though he’s possibly never been more nervous. 

“Okay,” Simon says, and he feels the vibrations of Simon’s words against his shoulder and the warmth of Simon’s breathing on his neck. The two of them let go just a little so that they can see each other’s faces again, still standing close enough in each other’s space to feel the heat of the other. “I think I trust that you’re sure of it now Wilhelm, I’m not doubting you. But I want you to be sure that you won’t regret this decision tomorrow or the day after. I know how hard coming out to people can be… and you’re doing it to an entire nation. You can’t take it back once you do that, you know that right?”

Simon’s eyebrows are scrunched together worriedly, and Wilhelm’s relieved that now he is finally in a position where he can smooth the lines of Simon’s face when he’s upset like this. He reaches out with his thumb and brushes over the space between his eyebrows and Simon’s expression relaxes. He traces down Simon’s nose and rests his hand on his cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth. Simon leans into his touch with the faintest glow crossing his features. Simon’s eyes are still intent on him with concern for him though, and he marvels at how much Simon truly cares with every fiber of his being. Wille pushes away the thought that worms its way into his mind that he doesn’t deserve this. He may not be deserving of Simon’s endless care now, but that doesn’t mean he never will be. Simon makes him want to be deserving of it. “I know,” he says, continuing to feel lost in how soft Simon’s cheek is beneath his thumb, “I don’t want to take it back. I denied us once, and it was the worst decision I’ve ever made. I don’t want to do that again.”

Simon nods, taking Wille’s hand from his cheek and holding it in his, playing with Wille’s fingers as he stares down at their hands. “I love you too, Wille,” he says, still looking at their hands and making Wille’s heart flip in a thousand different ways, “and I want to be with you too.” He looks like he’s bracing himself before saying, “but it’s because I love you that I don’t know if I should let you do this because of me. I want to be with you and have people just accept that more than anything. But… people are going to say things, Wille. Trust me. The amount of shit I’ve heard directed at me throughout my life, it’s hard to even count. And the amount of people throwing comments at me is far less than the amount you’re going to get, because you’re a public figure. Are you sure you want that? I don’t know if I want to be responsible for…”

Simon trails off, but Wille doesn’t need Simon to fill in the blanks for him. He knows what this means. His mother’s made sure that he does. And sure, he doesn’t actually know if he can handle it. The public pressure he’s already under is too much for him, is he really going to handle the spotlight that he’s willingly putting himself under? The target he’s placing knowingly on his back? The answer is no, he can’t handle it. But it doesn’t matter. Because he has Simon, and together they can handle anything. Somehow, the boy standing in front of him that smells of coconuts and citrus, and feels like sunshine and serenity allows his mind to quiet, and know that it’s possible. 

But then he realizes that while Simon’s been questioning this whole time if he’s okay with it, he hasn’t once asked Simon if this is something he’ll be able to handle. If Simon’s scared about it. Shit. He swore to himself that he was going to be better for Simon, and here he is already failing. “Simon,” he begins, taking his hand off of Simon’s waist and placing it with his other that Simon’s been fiddling with, positioning them so he’s now holding both of Simon’s hands and squeezing them gently. Simon looks up at him and he swears that Simon’s eyes are so inviting, looking so widely at him, and so close, that he can see his own reflection in them. 

“I know that this isn’t going to be easy, and I know I’m probably wildly unprepared for all that will come with this from the public, but I know I’ll be okay eventually. But will you? Are you sure this is what you want too?” He squeezes Simon’s hands and Simon squeezes them back, looking at him with as much blazing warmth as ever in his eyes, with love in his eyes. “It’s just like you said. It’s because I love you that I don’t know that I want to put you through this. I’ve always lived in the public eye, and uh, I mean I haven’t done anything as big as coming out and confirming the, um, video, but I’ve had cameras shoved in my face before. I can’t take this back but you can’t take this back either. People might recognize you wherever you go.”

Simon inhales and thinks about it for barely a moment before saying “I understand.”

“And people might dig into your family history too. Like really dig into it. They’ll try to find anything to paint you in a bad light. Your dad, Sara, your mama.”

Instead of responding, Simon unexpectedly lets go of his hands and walks over to sit down on the bed. He leans his elbows on his knees and puts his head in his hands. Not really knowing what to do, Wille sits down next to him on the bed, leaving a little space between them in case. Simon immediately scoots over to close that space and lays his head on his shoulder, reaching to hold onto him tightly. Wille immediately wraps his arms around Simon and holds onto him too. “I-” whatever Simon was about to say is cut off by a yawn and even in the intensity of this conversation, Wille can’t help but smile at how the chiseled features of Simon’s face turn into looking more like a sleepy kitten’s when he yawns. “I don’t know. I’m really tired… I didn’t really sleep.” 

Wille’s proud of Simon’s confession, and how far they’ve come in such a short time from when they both seemed like they felt they had to hide so much of themselves from the other, and from the world. He doesn’t think the Simon he’d met what feels like forever ago would have ever admitted he was tired, or that he hadn’t slept, or that anything about himself wasn’t fine without being asked first. But Simon is telling him now. And Simon feeling okay is the most important thing. 

“Do you want to rest now? I can come back or-”

“-I’m fine, please don’t leave.” Simon says hurriedly. 

Well, scratch that thought, they’re back to Simon saying he’s fine, but at least Simon had previously admitted he wasn’t. Progress . He knows that Simon’s probably been doing that all his life. Hopefully he’ll trust him enough one day to not feel like he has to anymore. Wille shifts their position a little from where they’re sitting side by side on the bed to facing more toward each other so he can press a kiss to Simon’s forehead as a better reassurance than his words could provide. “I won’t leave. You should sleep for a little bit though.”

“But we have to talk about-”

“-we can talk about it all we need to later. It’s a big decision for you to make, and it’s better if you’re actually conscious to make it Simon, you idiot,” he says affectionately, poking his thumb into Simon’s side which makes Simon squirm. He pokes at him again and Simon laughs, pulling Wille’s hand away. 

“Fine! But only if you stop poking me!” Simon says, as Wille continues to do so, poking and prodding at him so he’ll fall onto his back. He finally succeeds and Simon lays down in surrender, pulling Wille with him. “I can’t believe you're the prince of a country,” Simon mumbles, “who is planning on coming out to an entire nation on live television, but is instead deciding it’s a better use of your time being here trying to force me to take a nap.”

Simon rolls onto his side and Wille shifts onto his side as well, wrapping his arms around Simon and holding him from behind. “Well if you’re not going sleep, someone has to make you do it,” he replies, “and I’m here because I looooooveee youuuuu,” he finishes, poking at Simon’s stomach which makes Simon’s hand fly up to cover his in order to make him stop, lacing their fingers together. Almost every part of their bodies from head to toe are touching, and Wille knows that despite what may happen if they go through with their announcement, he wouldn’t want to live any other way. 

“If you loved me,” Simon huffs, trying to stifle a giggle, “you wouldn’t poke me like a child .”

With both of his hands trapped in Simon’s, he nudges at Simon’s earlobe with his nose and then presses his face into Simon’s neck, which makes Simon let out the laugh he’d been trying to hold in, music to Wille’s ears. 

“Ridiculous,” Simon mutters, but it sounds like he’s already started to fall asleep. Wille closes his eyes himself, holding the boy he loves closer to his chest and listening to his breathing as he nods off as well. 

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Simon’s POV

He’s woken up by the feeling of fingers gently tracing along the dip of his hips and up the side of his rib cage, before the fingers switch to tracing along his arm, all the way up to his shoulder. The feeling of Wille’s fingers on him makes goosebumps arrive everywhere he touches, almost as if his skin is trying to get as close as humanly possible to Wille’s touch. He keeps his eyes closed in hopes that Wille’s hands never leave his skin. 

He knows that going through with this is probably reckless and stupid and a terrible idea. He’s aware. Admitting to the world that he’s the prince’s… boyfriend? His stomach feels like there’s a knot in it as he remembers that they’ve never actually clarified what they are. Does Wille really want them in that way? But he’s confirming all of this on live television, so surely that means something. And Wille said he loves him, and for some unknown reason, he finds itself implicitly trusting Wille once again.

His thoughts are cut off by Wille saying “I know you’re awake, Simon. You were literally smiling.” Oops. Guess he’s becoming worse and worse at hiding the effect Wille has on him. Oh well, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. He doesn’t respond, and instead tries, and fails, to hide the smile he knows is taking over his face. Without warning, Wille begins to mercilessly tickle his neck, making him let out a very undignified squeal and squirm away from Wille, trying to stop the attack. 

He flips over so he’s facing Wille, to get a better view of his hands trying to grab at Simon everywhere and joins the chaos, trying to grab Wille’s wrists in his hands. “Stop- please- ah-” is all he can choke out, his own laughter cutting off his pleas. “Please- ahh- I’m awake- oh my god-”

He’s finally able to catch his breath as Wille’s devilish fingers finally stop their attack, and he groans into Wille’s chest, letting himself drape both his right arm and leg on top of Wille’s side. This time, it’s Wille who’s the one who can’t stop laughing, and he pulls Simon into him in an awkward bed side hug position, before releasing him so they’re laying side by side and looking at each other. 

It seems like they’re both waiting for the other to speak first but Simon doesn’t know exactly what he’s supposed to say, so he just stares at Wille in front of him, hoping and praying that this won’t be the last time he gets to be in bed this close to the other boy. Finally, Wille breaks their bubble of silence and speaks softly to Simon, in a way that makes his insides feel warm and swirly. If he’s honest with himself, which he rarely is, being so vulnerable like this still makes him feel like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, like he’s falling without anything to catch him. But he has Wille to catch him, he reminds himself. 

And it’s like Wille somehow knows he’s thinking this, because he reaches out in the space between them and takes Simon’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and reaching out his foot to hook their ankles together as well. He immediately feels himself calm down, still unsure of how just touching another person can have such an effect on his body. 

“While you were sleeping I was texting and talking back and forth with Erik,” Wille begins.

“How is he?” Simon asks, hoping that he’s alright.

“He’s a lot better,” Wille answers. “He’s back home, and he’s got his phone back. I told him that I wanted to confirm us, but that I still had to talk to you and make sure that this is what you really want. If it is, we’ve got it all mostly figured out… I think,” he finishes, looking at Simon expectantly.

Simon finds himself nodding instantly, “It’s what I want.”

Wille squeezes his hands and smiles softly. “Okay. We’re going to do the best we can to keep you, Sara, and your dad out of the press, but I can’t promise that any of you will be completely left alone. They try to keep me out of the press with every resource they have and we know how well that’s gone for me,” Wille musters up a dry laugh with no real humor behind it. 

He nods again, searching Wille for any sign of uncertainty, but all he finds is a fierce determination in the brown of his eyes. He knows that this announcement will probably end badly, most things usually do. But at least it will go badly with Wilhelm by his side, and can anything truly be that bad if they’re together? He should check in with Sara about this, but he knows that she’ll tell him to do it. He’d thought that she didn’t like him being with Wilhelm, but from the last time they’d talked, or rather she’d talked and he’d lied in his bed and tried to push her away, he realized that it wasn’t Wilhelm, but how he was letting himself be treated by Wilhelm that she didn’t like. 

He and Sara haven’t argued much throughout their lives, always needing each other too much as a lifeline, but so many of their arguments when they were younger were over him not choosing himself, or ever putting himself first. She’s always told him that he gives too much to people, but after their mom died, he feels like he just stopped giving any of himself at all. And he wants to change that. Will his heart get broken if he goes through with this? Maybe. But will it be broken with the infinite question of what if, if he doesn’t? Absolutely.

He wants to be with Wilhelm. Someone who makes him feel not so broken anymore. Someone who makes him feel like he’s finally whole. Like he matters. Like he means a whole lot. “So how are we doing this?”

“Yeah?” Wille smiles, nervous, but glowing and sure.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Wille begins, and his tone of voice changes, almost like he’s reciting a battle plan. His prince voice, Simon realizes. “If we prepare some sort of pre-written statement, or pre-record something and try to get it sent officially through The Royal Court, my mother will surely find out about it and try to prevent it from airing. I don’t really want to leak something to the press though, because I want this to be official, or believable I guess. I want it to be as verified as my- uhh- original statement… I’m sorry,” Wille looks at him then, they’re both sitting up now facing each other on the bed but their hands are still woven together. 

Simon squeezes Wille’s and says, “It’s okay, I told you I forgive you. Just finish telling me how we’re doing it right this time.”

“Okay,” Wille sighs and pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. A thud of someone dropping something loudly in the room next to his reminds them both that they are still very much in Simon’s dorm room. “Well first of all, we should be at my apartment so they’re aren’t any interruptions when I speak.” They both laugh at the sound of whoever dropped something in the next room holler “shit!” as if right on cue. “We’ll go to my place, and- shit okay let me tell Erik we’re doing this.” He pulls out his phone and types something in a text to his brother. “I let him know to leave now.”

“Erik? Leave now?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna drive out to my apartment. We’ll get there first so we can set everything up, and he’ll be there in a little bit. It’s a bit of a long drive.”

“I’m gonna meet your brother, today?”

“Yeah,” Wilhelm says nonchalantly.

“The Crown Prince, today?” Wille is very clearly finding how stressed he is about this funny, so Simon leans down and rests his head against where their hands are between them, muttering “shut up.”

“You’re cute.”

“ Shut up, Wille.”

Wille leans down a little and slides his hands out of Simon’s, pressing them to either of Simon’s cheeks and squishing them a little, pushing Simon’s head up and pressing a kiss to his lips. He can’t help but laugh at how Wille is squishing his face and the feeling of Wille’s breath against him makes his mind drift away for a moment before it comes back to his body.

“So we’re going to your apartment, and then I’m going to meet Erik, god help me, and then you’re going to make a public address? How? You said your mama wouldn’t let anything get through if she knew about it?”

“Exactly,” Wille says, dropping his hands from Simon’s cheeks and holding onto his hands again, “which is why she isn’t going to know about it and why Erik needs to come. Everyone knows he was in an accident, and my mother wanted him to do a public address once he was better to assure the public that he was alright. So he’s going to talk first, which is exactly what my mother wanted. But then he’s going to say that I have something I want to share as well. And then I’ll umm… I don’t really know what I’m going to say yet. But I’ll say something.”

He nods. “You’re brave for doing this, Wille.”

“It’s what I should have done before.”

“Well you’re doing it now. Do you have any idea what you’re going to say? This is a big deal for you, you don’t have to mention me if you don’t want to. As long as we don’t have to hide in public anymore I don’t care if the public knows about me.”

“I want to mention you. You’re one of the most important people in the world to me.”

Oh. At Wille’s confession all of his words seem to leave his body. No one’s ever said he’s one of the most important people in the world to them before. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, but his erratic heartbeat clearly does. “So, um, are we…?”

“Are we…?”

“Well what are we? Exactly. It’s just, we’ve never said, and I don’t exactly know what you want us to be.”

“What do you want to be?” Wille asks sincerely, his voice shaking a little. Simon knows what he wants, thinking back to his conversation with Sara. “Well do you want to be his boyfriend?” she’d asked him. And yes, he really really does. 

“I want to be your boyfriend,” he answers as confidently as he can, before sitting up a little straighter and saying it again. “I want to be your boyfriend. And I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Wille’s eyes are glassy then, and Simon’s stomach drops. Should he not have said that? Should he have let Wille decide? No. Wille asked him what he wants them to be, and this is what he wants them to be. Wille promised to be brave for him, and he needs to be brave too. He needs to ask for what he wants-

-Wille’s kissing him then, so hard that Wille’s weight against him makes him topple over onto his back on the mattress, and Wille climbs on top of him, pressing warm kisses to his lips, his nose, his cheeks- “Wille! You’re squishing me!”

He slides off of Simon in a clumsy roll, which could have been more graceful if he’d let Simon breathe for even a second, but he seems insistent on not letting there be any space between their lips. When the attack finally slows, he opens his eyes to Wille blinking away the tears that had been in his eyes, a single one making its way onto his cheek. So they had been happy tears after all then. He smiles to himself at the fact that Wille wants this too, and pulls the fabric of his shirt over his thumb and uses it to dab gently at Wille’s wet eyes and cheek. 

“I think I started calling you my boyfriend in my head a really long time ago,” Wille admits sheepishly. 

“How long is a really long time ago?”

“Ummm okay possibly, maybe, perhaps the day that we woke up together and took a bath? If you remember that?”

“If I remember that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, as if he could forget. “So you were sitting there in the bathtub holding onto a crying mess of a human being, and thought to yourself, yup, I think this is the boy I want as my boyfriend.” Wille’s blushing furiously so he continues, “you are so strange Wille, I love you.” 

The blush on Wille’s cheeks threatens to take over his entire face. “First of all, you were not a crying mess Simon, you were dealing with everything that you were going through, and I felt like you were allowing me to see the real you.”

“So the real me is a boy who likes to cry in other people’s bathtubs?” He deadpans, knowing saying that will get Wille all riled up, which it does.

“No!” Wille exclaims and squeezes Simon into him, “the real you is a boy who cares a whole fucking lot, and who likes to pretend he doesn’t. And who has been through a lot, and who likes to pretend he hasn’t. I like every part of you, and in that moment you finally showed me all the parts of you that you were hiding.”

What the fuck? How is the boy in front of him real? How is he real? Every moment seems like it’s a dream that he’s about to wake up from, but then Wille goes and says something else, or goes and does something else, and the dream lasts a little longer. “You like every part of me? Is that all?” He says, knowing if he says anything else then his eyes will be watering in the same state that Wille’s were just a few moments ago.

Wille rolls his eyes and leans in and kisses him. “I love every part of you, you tiny idiot.”

He gasps, and Wille laughs. “Call me tiny one more time,” he teases, “and you won’t like it.”

“Oh what are you gonna do about it?” Wille taunts him, pinching at Simon’s hip.

He leans in until he’s a hair away from Wille’s lips, and as Wille leans in to close the gap he puts his finger between their lips and whispers, “I think it’s more what I won’t do.”

Wille groans and then sits up, pulling him up with him. “Okay, I take it back,” Wille says, “I meant you are a very very sexy, tall, very ginormous man.” Simon rolls his eyes but kisses Wille anyway, which makes Wille look all too pleased. 

“Come on, you should get changed, and we should go.” At Wille’s words, Simon remembers that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes and slides off the bed, grabbing fresh ones and heads into the bathroom to shower quickly and change.

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.

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Wilhelm’s POV

Simon returns out of the bathroom and he can’t help but let his eyes trail all the way up and down Simon’s body, taking in everything in its entirety. His curls are parted perfectly slightly off to the side in a way that Wilhelm’s never seen him style them before, and he can’t take his eyes away. When he finally tears his gaze elsewhere, he notices how the white of Simon’s shirt and the cream color of his adorable knit sweater vest contrast against his smoothe, brown skin, making him look absolutely radiant. It also doesn’t help that the short sleeves give Wille a very clear line of sight to the toned muscles of Simon’s arms. 

He looks back up to meet Simon’s eyes, embarrassed to see Simon smiling an impish half smile at him with a glimmer in his brown eyes, shining in contrast against the light coloring of the teardrop pearl shapes of Simon’s necklace. “Good?” Simon asks him, knowing damn well by the way Wille’s practically drooling over him that it is far more than good. 

“Mm.” Is all he responds, and Simon turns to grab his phone which exposes Wille’s vision to the silver rings decorating Simon’s fingers as well as brown pants he somehow hadn’t noticed before that flare slightly at the bottom and fit very nicely around Simon’s backside. He should look away, he is well past staring now… definitely well past it. 

Simon slides his phone into his pocket and steps toward Wille, into his space. Somehow, he thinks he’s gotten away with his continued ogling of the rest of Simon without him noticing. He’s wrong. Simon takes Wille’s arms and plants them slightly below his own waist, just enough so that Wille’s hands are resting a little more on Simon’s ass than on his hip bones. He feels himself flush, but takes the opportunity to press his hands against where Simon’s left them, which makes Simon smile and lean in to kiss him. “It’s okay,” Simon smirks, shifting one of Wille’s hands even farther back so it’s now on top of where he had been staring at the back of Simon’s pants. “You’re allowed to stare at my ass, we are boyfriends after all.”

At the use of the word, Wille feels his body pull itself forward, not of its own volition, toward the luminous boy in front of him, leaning in to kiss Simon back. When he feels Simon’s lips against his, he squeezes his hands ever so slightly around Simon’s ass which makes Simon’s breath hitch mid kiss. 

“I love you,” he whispers against Simon’s lips, and Simon kisses him back ardently for a moment before pulling away, reaching out to lace Wille’s hand in his and saying, “let’s do this.”

* * *

They arrive at Wille’s apartment and Simon watches him as he sets up the computer and webcam for the virtual live interview. Once he has everything set up, and nothing more to do to occupy his mind or his hands, the reality of the situation sets in and he starts to feel his stress levels rising. This has to go well. For him, for Simon, and for all the people watching this. He doesn’t even have anything prepared to say, because he knows that he’ll forget his own script anyway. It’s probably best just to say what he’s feeling. Except there’s still so much he’s unsure of. And he doesn’t know what the public’s reaction will be, or what his mother’s reaction will be. He can’t imagine she’ll be happy with either of them when she finds out they’ve orchestrated all of this behind her back, especially since it’s something she fairly explicitly forbid him to do.

She had basically told him not to see Simon anymore, and here he is, about to announce him as his boyfriend. He takes a deep breath, and immediately Simon is pulling Wille to lean into him, which he gladly does, letting Simon hug him against his chest and rub his hand soothingly back and forth across Wille’s back. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be next to you the whole time. And Erik will be here too, and if everything you’ve told me about him is true, he knows what he’s doing. We’re not going to let anything go wrong.”

Wille nods against Simon’s shoulder, and Simon continues. “This means a whole lot to a lot of people. I can’t even begin to explain to you how crazy it would have been for me to be a little gay boy and see the prince of my country on tv saying that being who I was, was okay.” 

“I love you Simon.”

They hear the door shut and let go of each other to see Erik standing in the entryway, looking at them. “He’s right Wille, what you’re doing means so much to so many people.” Upon seeing their slightly startled expressions he chuckles and says, “sorry, security let me in.”

“Erik!” Wille exclaims and goes bounding over to him, hugging his brother who he hasn’t seen since the hospital. He checks him over and is happy to note that he seems to be healing well. He sees Erik’s gaze shift past him then and he turns around to where Simon’s come a little closer to them, standing awkwardly a good distance away. Frankly he finds it adorable. Simon’s never awkward, and knowing it’s because it means so much to Simon that his brother likes him makes his heart skip a beat.

Upon seeing Erik looking at him Simon walks over to them and Wille says, “Simon this is Erik. Erik, Simon.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Simon says politely and a little bit shyly, which makes Wille smile as they shake hands. 

“It’s really nice to finally meet you,” Erik says immediately in a teasing tone, and Wille knows that having the two people who like to torment him the most in the same room together is definitely going to simultaneously be the best and worst situation he’s ever put himself in. 

“Finally?” Simon questions, far less timidly.

“Yes, finally. You have no idea,” Erik grins at Wille, and Wille shakes his head, trying to signal Erik to stop talking now. He knows it’s futile, he’s never gotten his brother to stop before. Instead he simply has to stand here and watch as Erik gives Simon more ammo to use against him. “He FaceTimed me in your dorm room I believe, and he was trying to play it off so cool, but he was being so obvious.”

“Oh?” Simon responds, making eye contact with Wille with his sinful eyes. “Is he talking about the day you kissed me?”

He covers his face with his hands and groans, nodding which makes his brother laugh out loud. “You kissed him then? No wonder you looked so smitten while we were talking!” Erik says, turning to look at him, before looking back to Simon and continuing. “When he finally admitted he wasn’t in a ‘friend’s room’ he basically waxed poetic about every little detail he knew about you to me.”

“Aww Wille you had a crush on me,” Simon says teasingly at him.

“Simon we’re literally dating.”

“Aww that’s so embarrassing. Wait-” Simon turns back to Erik, “a friend’s room?” He says, clearly amused. 

“That’s what he told me,” Erik says, putting his hands in the air in surrender before his expression gives way that he’s about to say something that will most definitely leave Wille wanting to crawl under the table. “Did he really throw up on you? And then tell you he didn’t like boys?”

“Yes!” Simon bursts out, him and Erik laughing together freely. Despite it being at his expense, Wille can’t help but feel giddy at the sight of his two favorite people acting like they’ve known each other for far longer than just a few moments. “More than once actually,” Simon says, speaking to Erik but looking devilishly at Wille, “and then he told me he ‘wasn’t like that.’”

“Yup, that sounds like my brother,” Erik sighs teasingly, and pulls Wille into a side hug, ruffling his hair on purpose.

“I hate you both, actually.” Wille groans, which makes the two of them laugh again. 

“When I walked in here the first thing I heard you say to him was ‘I love you Simon,’” Erik mimics Wille’s words with an exaggerated soft expression, “so we all know that’s not true.”

Simon looks down at the ground and smiles bashfully, which makes Wille unable to stop himself from smiling too. Erik looks back and forth between them and mutters fondly, “so this is how it’s gonna be then isn’t it.”

Wille nods, glad to finally not be the main solo target anymore. He walks closer to Simon, leaning his chin on Simon’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around Simon’s waist, feeling butterflies at how right it feels to be so close to Simon and have his brother be so casual about it. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Terrible. Right, well then,” Erik says, stepping toward where the computer and chairs are set up and checking his watch. “We have about ten minutes until we’re on, so if you both want to come sit over here so we’re ready. Simon, enjoy Wille trying to attach himself to you for a few more minutes, I don’t know how you put up with him,” Erik finishes with an eye roll and sends Wille a wink. 

“I don’t mind,” Simon says so softly, Wille's not sure that Erik can even hear it, “I love him.”

Chapter Text

Wilhelm’s POV

The alarm goes off on Erik’s phone, and Wille uncurls himself from where he’s nestled into Simon as his brother starts logging in his credentials into the computer. This is it. It’s time. Time to finally tell everyone the truth about himself, and about the boy he loves. He takes a deep breath and sits next to Erik, Simon sitting in the chair next to him just slightly off screen. 

Simon reaches out and links their hands together, squeezes Wille’s hand in his and smiles softly at him. “You can do this Wille. We both believe in you. So much.”

Erik distractedly hums his agreement, while trying to log into the live interview. He’s so glad that the news station would rather have them do the interview live this way due to Erik still healing from his accident, rather than have a pre-recorded one in person.

Simon seems to sneak a glance at Erik, and seemingly deciding that Wille’s brother is not really paying attention to them, he presses a kiss to Wille’s cheek, to his nose, and then to his lips, before pulling away and tucking a strand of Wille’s hair behind his ear. “I love you,” he mouths soundlessly, and Wille smiles, leaning in to give Simon another kiss. 

“Are you two done, can I please press the join button now?” Erik asks, and Wille watches in amusement as Simon’s cheeks turn a little pink, before he scoots farther away where he won’t be seen by the interviewer. Wille shuffles out of frame as well. “Alright, ready?” Erik asks, facing Wille.

Will he ever be ready? Can one ever be ready to come out to an entire country and announce their boyfriend? Probably not. But he has the two people he loves most in this world sitting on either side of him, so he supposes this is the closest to ready he’s going to get. He nods, and watches as Erik composes himself into his princely personality, and joins the newscaster’s call.

They all sit with nerves bouncing back and forth between them like energized ping pong balls as the newscaster discloses a recap of Erik’s accident, and finally announces that they will be joined by Crown Prince Erik in just a few moments. The video technician adds Erik onto the official broadcast and the newscaster greets him formally, with Erik of course flawlessly returning the greeting.

“I’m sure that many of us were extremely worried when we heard the news of your accident, and were praying for a swift recovery,” the newscaster begins. “On behalf of the public, we’d like to ask you if you have been recovering well and if you are feeling able to return to your regularly scheduled activities soon.”

“Absolutely,” Erik responds, voice full and confident. “Thankfully, and most likely due to the kind prayers and thoughts of the people, the injuries I acquired were not too dire, and simply required the observation and care of the experienced doctors who’s care I was under. I’d like to extend my thanks to them as well for seeing that I made a swift recovery. I am feeling well and I intend to return to my regular work starting tomorrow.”

“We’re so glad to hear that. Do you-”

Erik politely cuts off the newscaster’s question, and Wille feels his heartbeat in his ears with the knowledge that it’s almost time for him to speak. Hopefully he will be somewhat as poised as Erik is being now. “I apologize for interrupting your next question,” Erik says, “but while I felt it necessary and important to assure the public I am feeling healthy and have recovered, there is a larger matter that I wanted to discuss during this time on the air if you wouldn’t mind.”

The newscaster, clearly not expecting such an out of the ordinary interruption looks flustered, but quickly recovers and says, “by all means, go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Erik replies, flashing one of his signature prize-winning white smiles before continuing. “My brother Wilhelm has recently been the subject of much attention from the press in both the past, and in the recent week. He would like to speak on the current matter, so without further delay, I am going to give Wilhelm the screen.”

Simon squeezes his hand one last time before they’re forced to break apart as Wille, hopefully not awkwardly, shuffles into the frame as Erik exits it. 

“Hello,” he begins, forcing his mind to focus. “Thank you for allowing me to speak on such short notice. There has been a recent video circulating online that originated in an article of two men kissing while being secretly filmed from outside a window at night. Many people believed me to be one of the people in the video, and I originally denied this statement.”

This is it. This is the moment. He breathes in and out slowly, and it feels like his whole body is running on pure adrenaline. His eyes are on the screen as he’s talking, watching his reflection and the newscaster, which has become overwhelming. His concentration however, is on Simon, sitting next to him just out of reach with his eyes glued not on the screen, but directly on Wille. Simon’s attentiveness should make him feel nervous, but in this moment that is taking all of his nerve to keep speaking, Simon’s gaze on him makes him feel strong. There is something so special about Simon, something in his presence, in the way he listens, in the way that Wille feels like he matters when he’s around him. 

Simon gives him the strength to be who he is. Or rather, Simon wants him to make himself realize he has the strength to be who he is, and in this moment, to have the strength to tell people. 

“I am here to take that claim back. I lied because I was scared of how people would react, and I felt like I didn’t know what to do, and I apologize for my dishonesty. I want to make things right now by providing the truth. I am one of the people in the video, and I was kissing another boy.”

The newscaster’s face flashes with a look of absolute shock at Wilhelm’s admission, before her professionalism takes over, and she composes herself instantly. 

“I wanted to officially announce to everyone that I am not straight, and that part of me is an important part that I want to share. It does not define me, or put me in a box, or limit who I am. It simply adds yet another part of me that I have to give. I want to let the people of this country know that Sweden is an accepting nation, and that all people should be allowed to love who they wish to love.

I am still young, and I am still figuring out what my sexuality is, as I’m sure many people are, particularly young people. Speaking of those who are figuring out who they are, I wasn’t sure that I would have the courage to discuss such a private part of myself, but someone very important to me told me that it would have meant a lot to them if they had known there was a queer royal in the Royal Court when they were younger.

This person is very special to me, someone who is kind, caring, generous, thoughtful, and intelligent, and who is the other person in the video that was secretly taken of us. I would like to introduce you all to my boyfriend, Simon.”

He turns his gaze for the first time away from the screen and looks at Simon, who looks shocked as if he hadn’t thought Wille was going to pull him on screen with him, and who quickly wipes at his wet and shining eyes. Simon looks so happy, and so proud of him that Wille can’t help feel pride in his chest for what he’s just done as well. He scoots over so that he takes up half the screen, and Simon tentatively lets Wille pull him onto the screen next to him. 

All traces of the Simon who’s usually full of cocky confidence, or at least upholding the veneer of it, often allowing vulnerability lurking not too far below the surface to show, is nowhere to be found. Instead, Simon’s voice now is soft and nervous, a little shy, and completely adorable. He gives a shy smile and a tentative little wave, and makes out a timid “hi.”

Wille smiles, and Simon does the same. Their energy is so infectious that the newscaster seems to be unable to hold in her neutral expression any longer, and smiles as well. 

“Well this is certainly an unexpected announcement,” the newscaster replies, “but I’m sure a welcome one by many people no doubt. I’m sure the people are wondering how this will change the future of the monarchy. Would you mind elaborating a little on that?”

“Absolutely,” Wilhelm nods, forcing himself to stop smiling at how Simon still looks the complete antithesis of his normal self, and reaches for Simon’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to hopefully comfort him in the way Simon had done to him before the broadcast. 

“I want to assure people that just because I am in a relationship, it doesn’t mean that there will be many changes, and certainly not any negative changes. Erik is Crown Prince, and will be taking over the throne one day. I am going to take my position very seriously as well, but I am also only just starting to begin to understand what that role is, and I am also focusing on my studies at university. Speaking of which, I would like to ask members of our university, as well as the public to kindly respect our privacy at this time.

I understand people will have many questions, and I will do my best to answer them to the best of my ability, but I also want to remind everyone that though I have grown up with my life being very public, Simon has not. I ask the people of Sweden to please respect our boundaries as you would with anyone.”

The newscaster looks as though she wants to ask more questions, but he doesn’t think he has the mental capacity any longer to keep forming articulate answers. “Thank you so much for your time, and thank you to all that listened,” he concludes his speech and in a few minutes the newscaster has wrapped things up and Erik closes out of the interview and shuts the computer. 

The second the laptop clicks shut, Simon, who has been very still sitting next to him and holding his hand, wrenches his grip free and tackles Wilhelm into a hug, making him fall back a little bit nearly onto Erik. Erik laughs and joins in on their little embrace, squeezes Wille’s shoulder and says, “I’m proud of you Wille,” before letting go and shoving the two of them back upright. 

Simon is still hugging him so tightly with his head burrowed into his shoulder, his curls tickling his neck. “I love you I love you I love you,” he hears Simon’s voice say, very muffled into his shirt. 

“I love you too,” he replies into Simon’s hair, holding him tighter, which makes Simon respond by gripping Wille somehow impossibly tighter as well, to the point where he can barely breathe. Although, he thinks that maybe being squeezed to death by the person you love the most in the world isn’t exactly a bad way to go. 

Eventually Simon lets go of him, and his eyes are so full of what he can only describe as adoration directed at him. It’s extremely overwhelming and he’s certainly not used to people looking at him with that look. He isn’t quite sure what to do, so he just stares back at his beautiful boyfriend and allows himself to get lost in the dark pool of Simon’s eyes.

He could stare at Simon’s face for eternity, and by the way Simon’s staring at him right back he comes to the astonishing and unbelievable realization that possibly Simon is thinking the same about him. It’s a terrifying feeling, it’s a wonderful, warm, indescribable feeling that-

Erik clears his throat slightly obviously, and for a moment Wille had forgotten that he was even in the room. Both boys snap their eyes to Erik, and Erik looks like he’s trying to stop himself from teasing Wille, which is a first for sure. “As fun as this is,” Erik says, waving his hand around to gesture at Simon and Wille, “I probably should head out.” 

Erik leans in to give him a hug again, and tells him once again how proud he is of him. It’s a prodigious feeling, to know that his older brother who’s opinion has always meant so much to him is so accepting of who he is, and even proud of him for it. Erik gives Simon a hug too, and tells him he is proud of him as well. Wille wishes he could bottle up this feeling of euphoria forever.

“Do you want to stay here tonight so you don’t have to drive all the way here and back in one day?” He asks Erik, in reality truly not wanting him that far away in case of something happening. He hasn’t checked his phone yet so he has no idea what the public reaction is to him and Simon. 

“Don’t worry, I booked a room right nearby in case either of you need me.”

At Erik’s breezy inclusion of Simon into his protection, Wille sees Simon smile softly, and Wille can’t help but do the same at the sight of him.

He isn’t as subtle as he thought because Erik immediately says, “Also, I definitely do not want to be trying to sleep with the two of you in a room next door.”

At Erik’s playful insinuation Wille feels himself blush furiously as his eyes dart to Simon, who has burst out laughing and is not even trying to hide it.

“Well you’re not exactly wrong,” Simon replies, eyes twinkling and still laughing, now with Erik at Wille’s expense. His boyfriend is a little shit, he’s supposed to be on his team, not on Erik’s. He can’t be mad for long though, because the realization that Simon has indirectly alluded to the fact he might be wanting to participate in some, um, activities later makes a feeling of fluttering warmth settle in his chest. 

He’s brought out of his thoughts by Erik clearly noticing the way the two of them are staring at each other, and just chuckles at them and shakes his head, putting his hands on his knees as he stands up, saying “well that’s definitely my cue to leave. Have fun you two… but not too much fun.” He winks at Wille, which makes his cheeks that are already burning pink absolutely on fire.

Erik turns to Simon and says, “out of the two of you, I’m going to guess you’re the more responsible one, so close the curtains. And no more national headlines at least until this blows over, okay?” 

Simon nods seriously, trying to keep his laughter at bay. He bites his lip and says, “yes sir.” His composure starts to break a little bit, and his grin betrays him, making Erik laugh as well and Wille chucks a pillow cushion at Simon, which Simon catches and hides his face in. 

Erik starts to pack up his items, and Simon places the pillow on the couch before standing up to help Erik gather his things. “It was really nice to meet you, Erik,” Simon says, and the picture of Erik and Simon standing next to each other is one he snapshots for safekeeping in his mind. “Thank you for doing all of this for us. I’m so glad Wille has you.”

“No problem,” Erik smiles, “and for the record, I’m glad Wille has you. ”

Simon’s smile that follows Erik’s words is priceless. It’s brighter than the sun and the stars all together. “Now enjoy that compliment while it lasts little man,” Erik says, “because you’re officially part of the circle of people I make it my mission to tease relentlessly now.”

Simon shakes his head, “what is it with the two of you and calling me small!” He huffs with fake indignation. Wille and Erik both laugh, and thank god finally Simon knows how it feels to get a taste of his own medicine and be betrayed by his boyfriend to be on team Erik. 

“It’s okay Simon, I like that you’re teeny,” Wille says, unable to help himself. He reaches for Simon’s hand but Simon playfully slaps it away and flips him off instead. 

“And to think I thought you were so sweet and cool when I first met you,” Simon says, jokingly rolling his eyes. “You’ve got everyone fooled.”

“You thought I was cool?”

“Nope, just kidding, not even a little bit. I’m so much cooler than you.” 

“It’s true,” Erik agrees, pointing at Simon and looking at Wille. “He is way cooler than you.”

“You really couldn’t stay on my side for a full five minutes, huh?” Wille questions his brother, making them all laugh.

“What can I say?” Erik says, shrugging, “I wanted to be on the cooler team.” 

“Oh shut up, get out,” he says as he playfully pushes his brother out the door. Erik laughs at him all the way to the doorway, and finally the door closes and he and Simon are alone. No newscaster, no Erik, just the two of them. 

There’s a silence that passes over them, almost as if they’re both taking in what it is that actually just happened, and trying to comprehend that they’ve actually succeeded. 

“We did it,” he says.

Simon steps closer to him, holding his gaze in such an intense way that makes Wille feel like he’s floating. “ You did it,” Simon replies.

He shakes his head. “ We did it. Me and you.”

They’re barely an inch apart now, and Simon nods a minuscule nod, leaning towards him in search of his lips. “Actually wait,” Wille says, leaning back enough where Simon just misses making contact with his lips. “Why should you get to kiss me? You don’t think I’m cool.” 

Simon doesn’t even look phased by his teasing, and that should be his first warning. The shy, meeting Wille’s brother and being on an interview for the first time Simon is gone, and the Simon that makes Wille want to agree to any bad idea that comes out of Simon’s mouth is back. 

“I don’t think you’re cool,” Simon smirks, “I think… that you are really fucking hot though.” That’s all it takes for Wille to start blushing, but of course, Simon doesn’t stop there. “I think that it was extremely, extremely sexy of you the way you were so confident, and the way you talked about yourself, and the way you talked about us.” Simon’s tracing two fingers from the back of Wille’s hand, and up his arm now, the touch mixed with Simon’s heated gaze making him shiver. “And I love the way that when I touch you, it’s almost like your body can’t handle it.” His fingers have reached his jaw now, before sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck. “And I think… that there is only one way for me to describe to you the way it felt when you introduced me as your boyfriend.”

Simon adds his other hand to the back of Wille’s neck, the same place where the other one has been busy in Wille’s hair, and gently but surely pulls Wille in toward him, holding him steady as Simon kisses him with an intensity that makes his knees weak and his heart nearly stop. 

Simon’s kissing him with so much intention, that he stumbles backward a little, hitting his back not so gently on the wall. 

Simon breaks apart from him for the first time and mutters a soft “sorry,” before grinning and pressing their lips and bodies back together. Simon’s hands are all over him, and Wille’s are just as eagerly, if not more, roaming indecisively all over Simon’s neck, chest, shoulders, arms, and hair. 

His phone in his back pocket buzzes against him and the sound is made louder from the way it’s pushed against the wall. Simon pauses for a moment and watches Wille, allowing him to make the next move. Obviously he chooses to ignore this distraction and pulls Simon back against him, maybe a bit too over eager, which makes Simon laugh against his lips. 

His phone buzzes repeatedly in his pocket now, signaling a phone call. Simon pulls away again, and this time he steps slightly more out of Wille’s space, but with his hands still lingering on his forearms. 

“That’s probably important,” Simon suggests.

“I don’t care,” he replies, reaching for Simon’s waist. Simon stops him and says, “ Wille ,” in a stern tone that lets him know he isn’t going to just let it go.

He sighs and pulls out his phone, internally groaning at seeing his mother’s name as the one calling him. He knew this would happen, obviously. Of course when he came out on national television his mother would call him and demand to know what was going on. But some part of him was hoping she somehow wouldn’t. He knows that scenario is impossible, and that she’s probably angrily pacing back and forth across her office with her phone in hand, anxiously waiting for him to pick up the call and admit he’s tarnished their reputation forever. But he doesn’t want to pick up the call. 

“It’s my mother,” he replies, to which Simon looks far less fazed than he thought the other boy would be, and shows no sign of worry. God he loves this boy. 

“Which is important,” Simon retorts fondly back at him.

“I know.”

“So you should probably answer her.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Wille…”

“I don’t want to Simon, and I don’t have to. Today has been one of the biggest moments of my life, and I want to just have one moment for myself… with you. All she’s going to do is criticize me for doing something that can’t be undone. And I’m glad it can’t, because I don’t want to take it back. I want to love you, Simon.”

“Well fuck,” is all Simon replies, before melting into Wille and wrapping his arms around him snugly, pulling Wille away from the wall and into him, allowing Wille to rest the full weight of his body against him. 

“How am I supposed to win this argument with you now when you’ve gone and said that?” Simon says, the vibrations from his soft laughter able to be felt throughout Wille’s own body, making his heart flutter.

“I thought you said you always win?” Wille replies, remembering their conversation from a few weeks ago. As if he could ever forget anything Simon has ever said to him, or any moment with Simon.

“I distinctly remember saying I usually win,” Simon replies with a cheeky smile which Wille instantly leans in to press a quick peck to. 

“Well you seem to be winning a lot less than ‘usually’ nowadays,” he responds, feeling smug about the way Simon’s fake boastful attitude falters a little, “especially when I do something like this.” He grabs hold of Simon’s waist firmly, and switches their positions so that Simon’s the one closest to the wall, shoving him against it just roughly enough to surprise him, while cradling the back of Simon’s head with fingers in his hair so it doesn’t hit the wall. 

Simon lets out a small, breathless sound at the impact, which Wille captures immediately in a kiss before it disappears. He tugs on Simon’s curls, making Simon silently gasp, which allows Wille to bite gently at his bottom lip. He presses Simon more firmly against the wall, and steps so his thigh is between Simon’s legs, pressing right against where he can now feel Simon starting to need him. 

He can feel Simon’s increasing hardness against his thigh, and the thought makes him match Simon’s moan. Simon’s practically melting between him and the wall, and Wille’s enjoying every moment of making the other boy act this way. He presses a kiss to Simon’s jaw, tracing it with his lips. He doesn’t make it all the way, because his phone is buzzing loudly in his pocket again, and Simon groans and lays his head back against the wall in annoyance.

“You didn’t think to turn it off after it just rang? ” Simon asks, voice clearly struggling between being annoyed and being completely breathless.

“You didn’t think to turn it off either!”

“It’s your phone!”

“It’s your…” Okay, well he doesn’t exactly have a good comeback for that, and instead fumbles to stop the buzzing and sets his phone on silent. 

When he finally gets the damn thing to be quiet, he tosses it frustratedly onto the couch before turning back to Simon, who is smiling and shaking his head at him. Simon smiles an innocent, pure, puppy dog smile, as he pokes Wille’s chest and says “you’re stupid.”

He rolls his eyes and knocks his head onto Simon’s shoulder. “I know.”

“I love you.”

He was enjoying having Simon being all worked up and flustered, and he wants that upper hand back so he stays quiet after Simon’s teasing.

“Wille…”

“Mm?” He responds, pretending to ignore Simon’s ‘I love you.’ He also pretends to ignore the way his whole body feels as if it’s ascended into the garden of Eden every time his boyfriend says those words. 

“I said , I love you.”

“I know,” he replies, taking his head off of Simon’s shoulder and looking into Simon’s eyes in order to come off more in control. Big mistake. Looking into Simon’s eyes is like looking into a dark mirror of endless possibilities of all Wille’s wildest fantasies, and the warmth in Simon’s eyes makes it feel like all those fantasies can come true. 

Simon adorably crosses his arms in front of himself, pretending to be very annoyed, and glares at Wille. His glare in this moment is about as menacing as a baby kitten’s. Oh sweet, intimidating, suave Simon, look what you’ve become, he thinks. The thought makes him break his feigned indifference and crack a smile, which makes Simon’s pout grow. 

“Alright fine,” Simon huffs bombastically, which makes Wille’s smile widen. “If I un-call you stupid will you say it back?”

“Maybe,”

“Ugh, I guess you’re maybe a little not stupid.”

“A little?”

“A lot not stupid… Sometimes?”

“Sometimes?”

“Okay, fine, a lot not stupid, like, seventy five percent of the time. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

How is it that such a ridiculous human being is the person that he loves so uninhibitedly? Or maybe he’s the ridiculous one for doing the loving. He concludes they are most certainly both ridiculous for loving the ridiculousness that is the other, and he can’t withhold saying it any longer. 

He l reaches out and uncrosses Simon’s arms, who lets Wille do so without any resistance. It’s something that he had been in awe of the first time Simon just let him move his body any which way, and something he will probably forever be in awe of. He plants Simon’s hands on his own waist, and rests his arms around Simon’s shoulders, pulling him in and whispering “I love you Simon,” against his lips. 

When they finally separate, Simon reaches out a hand, which he instantly takes. It doesn’t even matter where Simon wants to lead him, he’d most definitely blindly follow Simon into the seventh circle of hell. 

* * *

They simply lie on their sides for a long while, facing each other and studying each other’s bodies and faces, both of them still half hard next to each other, but nearly too tired to do anything about it… nearly. 

“I’m thinking of a poem right now that reminds me of us,” Simon says into the warm blanket of silence.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Wille’s heart flutters. How on earth does he have a boyfriend who tells him there are poems that remind him of him? And then Simon starts reciting the poem to him from memory , making him nearly forget his own name and giving him a good reason to struggle to breathe for once. Forget feeling like he’s going to pass out from coming out to an entire country, he’s going to pass out because his boyfriend is reciting poetry to him from memory while holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. 

“It lies not in our power to love or hate,” Simon begins,

“For will in us is overruled by fate.

When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,

We wish that one should love, the other win;

And one especially do we affect

Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:

The reason no man knows; let it suffice

What we behold is censured by our eyes.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight:

Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?”

Wille rolls over onto his other side to get closer against Simon, and feels warm all over as Simon immediately snuggles against his back and wraps his body around him. Wille basks in just how smart and beautiful his boyfriend is, allowing Simon’s telling of the poem and its meaning cacoon him in a bubble of safety and affection. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to what it feels like being cared about so much by someone in this way.

“It’s by Christopher- or also known as Kit- Marlowe who was one the most famous Elizabethan era playwrights,” Simon continues on, and he knows there’s a big smile plastered on his face now at how Simon’s completely engrossed in talking about it, and he’s grateful that Simon can’t see it because he’d surely get teased for grinning like an idiot in admiration for his boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. He just keeps repeating it over and over in his mind, and it doesn’t feel less sacred no matter how many times he does. 

“The poem’s about love at first sight, obviously,” Simon chuckles, “and I think that’s how I felt about you. The silly boy who just wouldn’t stop staring at me like an idiot from across the bar. I loved you then, and I love you now. I sort of interpret the poem as love just kinda happens and you can’t help who you fall in love with. There’s this idea in the poem that there is an irresistible force that makes people fall in love that’s really mysterious and unexplainable. The last two lines indicate that love is weak, but if it is love at first sight, the love of unreason, then it will be strong… and that’s like us. The love of delirium, but this strong pull that I feel toward you that can’t be broken. Even when both of us tried to break it.”

“Simon,” he manages to say as barely a whisper, his name sacred just Simon’s words that he had been whispering to Wille, that are somehow more beautiful than the poetry he’d been reciting. “How are you so beautiful? Your words- Everything you say- do- you- beautiful.” He’s aware that he’s not making complete thoughts and he feels the the vibrations of Simon’s light, silent laughter against his back. “Ugh,” he groans back, making Simon giggle more.

“I wish I could explain to you how much I love you in the way you can for me. I don’t know how… you know that meme that’s like the guy shoveling that tiny section of snow on the roof? And it’s like ‘my feelings for you’ and then the tiny shoveled out part is like ‘how much I am able to express’ and- oh my god you just told me how much you love me with a poem and all these things you know about it, and I’m here telling you how much I love you using a meme? Oh my god this is so embarrassing!” He scoots away from Simon on the bed, rolling onto his back and covering his face that he’s sure is beet red with his hands, shielding it from Simon and the way he’s giggling. He doesn’t have to admit to anyone that he doesn’t mind making a fool of himself one bit if it means being the source of the laughter that sounds like twinkling bells coming from Simon. 

With his face still in his hands he feels a weight clambering on top of him, and peeks out from his fingers to see Simon smiling at him and straddling his hips. “If you don’t know how to say it you could just show me by kissing me instead,” Simon says, shrugging, the smile not leaving his face. 

And thank god that , Wille does know how to do. He sits up, planting his hands firmly on Simon’s waist where he’s sitting in Wille’s lap, and kisses Simon in a way he hopes conveys all the words and emotions he’s feeling but can’t eloquently explain in the way that Simon can. It seems to work because Simon is practically melting against him in his lap and his hands are wandering absolutely everywhere as he lets out breathless little noises that Wille drinks up like they’re made of gold, because they probably are. Made of gold just like the gold ingots of Simon’s poem, maybe… he doesn’t really know and can’t really care because all the thoughts in his mind are SimonSimonSimonSimon. 

They pull apart finally and he can’t hide his beaming smile full of adoration for Simon this time, which instead of being met with teasing is matched by a smile of equal brilliance by him. Simon’s grin quickly fades into his signature smirk in an instant, and his eyes darken into a pool of mischievous want, which makes Wille’s whole body feel like it’s on fire everywhere they’re connected. “And if you feel like the kissing doesn’t convey what you want it to enough,” Simon begins playfully, and Wille should have known he was done for the second Simon opened his mouth, “then you could also try doing other things to me instead.”

A burning fire of desire burns in his lower body, and any thought he’d had as a response evaporates as Simon shifts his hips purposefully against Wille’s in his lap and teases, “I’m just saying you have options. Poetry isn’t the only-”

He grabs Simon’s hips tighter before Simon can even finish his sentence and pulls him down onto him, before rolling himself on top of him and pinning down Simon under him as fast as he can. He pauses for a moment to look down at Simon’s face, and it looks, well it looks like the smug face of someone who’s gotten exactly what he’d wanted. 

“Good?” Wille asks, matching Simon’s smug expression.

“Almost,” Simon replies, licking his lips and looking absolutely devastating. 

“Almost?”

“Well you are still talking and not kissing me, so almost,” Simon replies.

And well, how else is he supposed to respond to that other than by kissing Simon so fervently that he’s grasping at Wilhelm’s hair, panting breathlessly and involuntarily pushing his hips up against his Wille’s. They both let out a groan when their hips meet at just the right angle, and Wille can feel just how much Simon wants him against his own hip bone, and he’s sure Simon can feel his as well. 

He grinds his hips against Simon again in the same delicious angle, which makes Simon muffle his groan by biting Wille’s shoulder and murmur, “tócame por favor,” into Wille’s skin, which makes him let out a soft, embarrassing whine. 

He pulls back to take off Simon’s clothes, and basks in the sight of Simon’s beauty. His eyes are half-lidded, practically burning with desire and desperate need. Wille traces the dip of his nose with his thumb, other fingers cradling his jaw. His thumb makes it to Simon’s lips, and he opens his mouth, allowing Wille to slide his thumb inside. He wills his body to control itself at the mere sight and sensation of Simon gently sucking on his finger, and extremely reluctantly slides his finger back out in order to use both hands to take off Simon’s shirt. 

He roams his hands without a path or intention all over Simon’s chest, making Simon eventually collapse from where he’s been leaning up on his elbows, to being fully flat on his back against the bed and the pillows. As Wille drags his fingers lower, Simon’s back arches up so that his hips are allowed to be magnetically pulled to Wille’s touch. He gently but firmly presses his left hand flat against Simon’s still dressed hip bone, and presses his hips back downward, making Simon’s head fall back against the pillows. 

Simon lets out a sigh, and his body falls more pliant beneath Wille’s hands. It’s euphoric, as he traces his finger down the line of Simon’s arm, his eyes taking in every dip and curve and scar of the boy who loves him, and of the boy he loves. It almost doesn’t feel real, but when he lets two of his fingers graze Simon’s nipple and Simon’s face scrunches with pleasure, he knows it’s very real. 

He loops his fingers around the waistband of Simon’s pants, and asks “can I take these off?” Finally looking up at Simon’s face in order to confirm he can continue. Simon opens his eyes in a haze, with blown pupils blending in with the dark brown, and a smile on his lips as he nods his confirmation to Wille. A smile that is always on his mind, even when Simon’s not in the same room, and even when he’s trying to concentrate on other things. Wille leans down to press his lips against Simon’s, wanting to feel his smile just as much as see it, and Simon meets him halfway, the two of them desperately drinking in every drop of euphoria that is passed between them.

He slides Simon’s pants down, leaving his underwear on, and after he’s done, Simon pulls him on top of him and presses a kiss to his neck, whispering hotly in his ear, “el tuyo tambien… yours too,” before biting at his ear tenderly. He kisses Simon again, feeling Simon smirk into the contact, letting him know Simon knows that he would most definitely instantly comply with his request sounding like that in Spanish. 

He strips off his clothes as quickly as he can, taking off his pants to his underwear. He nearly smacks Simon in the face as he pulls off his shirt, getting a little stuck in his haste. Simon lays a hand over his ass and squeezes, teasing, “Jesus Wille, I want you to have sex with me, not injure me!” Immediately giggling viciously like the curly haired menace he is when he sees how red his statement makes Wille’s cheeks. 

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, which makes Simon scoff.

“Excuse me! You’re the one who hasn’t touched me at all since you shoved me on this bed!”

“You’re the one laughing at me!” He jokes with false anger, secretly loving the way Simon laughs so uninhibitedly when they’re intimate like this. “And I am touching you,” he retorts, brushing his fingers over one of Simon’s nipples again. 

“Wille! You know what I mean,” Simon whines, petulantly jerking his hips up against Wille’s, the friction between both of them so much greater now that there is only a thin layer of fabric between them. 

They both let out a moan in unison and he presses Simon back down into the mattress, checking in to make sure Simon’s still okay with all his movements, before he mutters “behave” against Simon’s collarbone. He nips at the skin to leave a mark just below where Simon’s shirt collar would hide it, and soothes it with his tongue, making Simon involuntarily squirm his body around, but unable to because of Wille’s firm grip holding him in place. 

“Are you still okay with me holding you so tightly?”

“Please don’t stop,” Simon replies, looking like he isn’t going to last another moment if Wille doesn’t put his hands on him this instant. He desperately implores Wille to take off his underwear, which he does.

Wille finally wraps his hand around Simon and strokes it gently, making Simon whimper at finally getting Wille’s hands on him. He kisses Simon’s chest and admires the way Simon’s body squirms and breath changes with each new spot a kiss lands, or each new way he moves his hand along where Simon is achingly hard. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers into Simon’s sweaty and flushed skin, shifting his body downward. 

“So are y-ah!” Simon gasps, unable to finish his sentence as Wille takes Simon into his mouth, his hands still squarely planted holding down Simon’s hips. Simon’s moaning and squirming under him, and his hands fly into Wille’s hair, tugging gently as Wille speeds up his pace, which sends a ripple of pleasure throughout Wille’s body. Eventually, Simon’s gasps and mewls become increasingly more irregular and frantic, so he pulls off of him and replaces his mouth with his hand. Within moments, Simon’s whole body is tensing and then completely letting go as he elicits a loud moan, coming hard as Wille strokes him through it. Eventually, Simon’s little whine of discomfort lets Wille know it’s becoming too much, and he releases Simon, enjoying the way his boyfriend rolls closer and flops his body like a wet fish against him. 

Simon looks up at him, and Wille doesn’t want to brag, but his eyes are sparkling, the darkness of them seeming to somehow glow in the dim light. Noticing how limp his boyfriend’s body is flopped on him, but also being unable to ignore the pressure that is aching against his own underwear, he takes Simon’s wrist loosely, and guides Simon’s hand to lay on where he desperately needs his touch. 

Simon smiles a lazy and satisfied smile against Wille’s shoulder and slides wrist out of Wille’s grasp and inside of his boxers, applying a pressure against where he’s so hard that makes stars burst behind his eyelids. Simon continues working his hand against him inside his underwear, kissing the trail of hair right above his waistband and then slides himself between Wille’s legs. Simon slides the waistband down, looking up at Wille with dark eyes through even darker eyelashes with a questioning look, which makes Wille question how long exactly he is going to last. 

“Please,” he manages to say with a rough voice, and Simon slides the waistband down a little more, biting sharply at his skin which makes him yelp in surprise, before Simon is making his mind lose all ability to think by gently kissing and grazing his tongue over the mark. 

“I love you,” he hears Simon whisper, before he feels the intimate, wet heat of Simon’s mouth around him, clearly having more experience at this than he does. Simon is very skilled to say the least, and he can’t help the whimper that escapes him as Simon licks a hot stripe up his length before taking him in his mouth once again.

The way Simon’s touching him right now has his whole body aflame, about to float away into a heaven made solely for Simon and him. He can’t believe he’d ever denied this, that they were anything less than two halves that fit perfectly together in mind, soul, and body to make a whole. As if he’d ever want to touch anyone else in this way, or have anyone else touch him like this. 

Simon somehow seems to read his mind, like he always does, because he laces his and Wille’s fingers together tighter, pulling off of him for a moment to whisper “I’m yours,” before returning to the steady, wet, rhythm that has Wille losing his mind. 

At Simon’s words, he feels himself tighten, on the brink of falling apart. And then, despite everything feeling right in the universe when he’s with Simon, the universe still seems to be against them, because just as he feels his body so close to the brink of release, he hears a loud knocking noise and stern, angry talking outside his door. 

Simon quickly pulls off of him, sliding away from him slightly, and Wille wills himself to sit up, his whole body complaining at the action after being so fucking close to letting go. 

“What’s happening?” Simon asks him, with worry in his eyes, and Wille can’t help but feel furious that this is the life they have to live. One where he can’t even allow himself to complete a single orgasm because he is being pulled in a thousand different directions by everyone who wants a piece of him. He knows he’s not in danger, his bodyguards are outside the door to protect him, but his whole body is still flaming with anger at how Simon’s face that was completely blissful and serene with pleasure a minute ago is now scrunched into worried and confused lines.

“I don’t know,” he answers, sure he’s looking equally as confused and worried as Simon looks. “But get clothes on, and stay here, okay?”

The connotation of the words dawn on both Wille and Simon at the same time, both remembering the last time he had told Simon to stay in his apartment while he went to fix something. But this time is different. He isn’t denying Simon in an interview this time, he’s heading off to protect him with everything he has.

He pulls on the first items of clothing he finds on the floor, which he’s pretty sure are his pants and Simon’s top, but he doesn’t have time to fix it. With one last shared glance between them, he exits the bedroom and heads toward his apartment door. 

As he gets closer, he’s startled to hear that the voice causing all the commotion is his mother’s. His legs stop walking for a moment, until he wills himself to keep stepping forward.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he hears Malin, his favorite bodyguard, say on the other side of the door. “It’s well past evening and I am sure the Prince is asleep inside. I cannot allow you through the door without his permission. I have knocked on the door… and so have you,” he can hear the disdain in Malin’s voice, “and the Prince is not answering. I’m afraid you will have to return tomorrow morning.”

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” he hears his mother reply to Malin, and his boiling blood bubbles even hotter to the surface at the way she sounds. “I’m the one that hired you to protect my son, and I will be the one to fire you as well.”

“You hired me to protect the Prince, and so that is what I’m doing. We operate under rules you’ve set for us, and I would rather be fired than break those rules and compromise the safety of the person I have been hired to protect.”

Wille thinks he’s in love with Malin. From the way his mother has been stunned into silence on the other side of the door from Malin’s words, he knows he’s most definitely in love with Malin. He needs to thank her as soon as possible. But to thank her, he realizes she would need to still have her job. He doesn’t want to be the reason Malin’s lost her position, so before his mother can knock loudly on the door again, he swings it open, coming face to face with his mother. 

“Wilhelm!” She chastises him, her volume closer to a shout. “What have you done? Is this boy really so important to you that you’ve done all of this? I thought we’d had our talk and decided it was best to minimize and forget this problem, not publicly make suggestions about your personal choices like that!” She pauses for a moment, watching as her face is so pinched it’s nearly twitching. “And what on earth are you wearing?”

His instinct is to yell, or to cry, or to fall against the wood floor and have a panic attack so large he may die of hyperventilation. But he thinks of what he has to lose. Who he has to lose. The boy who is sitting in his bedroom waiting for him to come back, and who has had yet another intimate moment with Wille tainted by something out of there control. There will be no running away this time. No ‘minimizing and forgetting’ all of this. He’s going to fight. 

“First of all,” he spits back, and the feeling of an absolutely eerie sense of calm washes over him. “I did not ‘publicly make suggestions’ about my ‘personal choice.’ Being who I am, my sexuality, loving the person I love isn’t a choice, it is a part of who I am, and a part of myself I want people to know. And for the millionth time, that boy’s name is Simon, and I love him. I am so fucking in love with him that there is nothing on this world that you could say or do to change that.”

His mother looks what he can only describe as in shock, him having never stood up to her the way that he just did, and he especially has never swore at her. He doesn’t regret even spitting that profanity at her though, and he hopes Simon can hear all this. He hopes his boyfriend has proof of how Wille is ready to fight for him with no remorse now. Ready to use any means necessary to keep the boy he loves tucked safely in his heart, in the same way he’s sure he’s tucked into Simon’s heart too. 

After a moment, her face falls into some sort of resignation, and she finally speaks again, her voice quieter, and with far less of an edge, but words still painted with the hint of venom anyway. “You’re really not going to give up on this, are you?”

He shakes his head, “never.”

She sighs a heavy sigh, like she’s just surrendered to an enemy army in the biggest battle of her life, but is now about to face an even larger fight. 

“Then there are some things we will need to discuss… with Simon.” She finally says his name, and though she says it harshly, it isn’t exactly full of hatred like the way she was speaking a few minutes ago. “If you really are officially courting him, then there will have to be a better announcement than your speech on the news. Some sort of live appearance with the both of you.”

He can’t believe what his mother is saying. Is she actually giving him and Simon her blessing? Or perhaps not her full acceptance of them but at least her acknowledgment?

“He will agree to etiquette classes,” his mother continues.

“Is that a question?”

“It absolutely is not.”

“I don’t know if we can force him to-”

“-I’ll do the class.” He hears Simon’s voice break into their conversation, and he whips his head around to where Simon is standing in the bedroom doorway, dressed in his own pants, but Wille’s sweatshirt.

“Oh,” his mother answers, surprised, clearly not knowing Simon was still here. “He is still here.” She turns to look at Wille with her signature look of disappointment that he has experienced a myriad of times throughout his life, which makes him feel small, even after standing up to her so successfully. 

“I’m still here,” Simon instantly takes the attention off of him, bravely shining the spotlight on himself in front of the queen of the country he has lived in almost his entire life. He saunters forward, confident and calculated, looking the very picture of the impudent, charming bartender that Wille first fell in love with. He extends his hand, fingers still decorated with a few rings, the two of them having been in too much of a hurry to touch each other for him to take them off.

Simon looks at his mother intensely, with brown eyes so dark they look black, except for the small amount of light reflecting off them which reminds Wille of the moon shining brightly against the blackness of a clear night. He can’t even tell where Simon’s pupils end and where the irises begin. It’s beautiful. It’s captivating. And it’s unfortunately, inappropriately reminding a certain part of him that he never got his release and finished what he and Simon had started in the bedroom. 

His thoughts are thankfully dispersed by his mother reaching out to take Simon’s hand, allowing Simon’s firm grip and movement to complete the handshake. “I’m Simon,” he says, “it’s nice to finally meet you, Your Majesty.”

For the first time since Wille has met Simon, there is no mockery in the way he says her title, and he feels his heart melt with appreciation for Simon. Appreciation for his boyfriend acting so genuinely courteously because he knows how important this is for Wille, despite Simon being painfully aware of how much dislike the Queen holds for him.

Wille watches as his mother forces an extremely fake, half-hearted public appearance smile on her face and replies, “You may call me Kristina… it is nice to finally meet you as well.”

Simon nods seriously, and releases her hand. Is it inappropriate to swoon so hard because of his boyfriend that he passes out on the floor in front of his mother? Probably. He realizes he hasn’t spoken in a while, and it is probably best for him to say something.

“Mother, I-”

“Do you anticipate your father and his addictions being a problem in the future for your image, which in turn will now affect the Royal Court’s?” His mother asks Simon pointedly, and Wille feels his stomach drop at the flash of hurt that flickers across Simon’s face, before his eyes return to their endless pool of neutral darkness.

“You shouldn’t just ask him-”

“- I am aware that my father has struggled with, and continues to struggle with addiction,” Simon cuts Wille off, his eyes never leaving the Queen’s. His expression is challenging, as if he’s daring the queen of his country to disagree with him. “I have learned that recovery from addiction is not a straight line. I can not be sure of, or responsible for his actions in the future, but I can assure you that I won’t be associating myself with him any longer, unless he demonstrates to me that he has stopped using over a very long period of time, something that has not yet happened since he started.” Simon pauses for a moment, allowing his eyes to flicker to meet Wille’s for a moment, before returning right back to his mother’s. “Does that sufficiently answer your question, Kristina?”

She nods sharply, and that’s all the victory Wilhelm needs to jump in. “Mama, it’s getting late. I’m sure you need to be heading back home, or at least to sleep. We will schedule a time the day after tomorrow to discuss any other details of our relationship that need addressing.” 

He makes it clear by his tone that he is set on this, and his mother simply agrees and heads toward the door. As she turns the knob she turns back to face them and asks, “you are both sure this is what you want?”

“We’re way past sure,” Simon answers, before Wille can, so all he does is nod in agreement. His mother looks them over once again and exits his apartment. 

They simply gaze at each other, trying to take in the fact that though they have made it official together, they are now official in the eyes of Wille’s parents, and that makes them unable to wipe the grins off of their faces. 

“Your mama,” he whispers into the quiet, wrapping himself around Simon and smiling as Simon immediately lays his head against his shoulder, as if they’ve been doing this for a hundred years, “would be really proud of you for standing up so much for what you want.” 

He hears Simon sniffle against his neck and feels him nod, and he holds onto Simon tightly with one arm, and rubs his other hand in circles along Simon’s back with the other. 

Simon takes his head up off of his shoulder and blinks away the mist in his eyes. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Wille’s lips, as soft and fleeting as a butterfly’s wing. 

“Hey,” Simon whispers quietly, looking so soulfully into Wille’s eyes as his hands slide from where they were holding onto him in their embrace down Wille’s body and onto his hips. 

“Hey,” he replies just as softly, thoroughly distracted by the way Simon’s hands are just barely resting on his hips, with his thumbs rubbing back and forth. 

“We never got to finish what we started,” Simon says, tilting his head. Wille’s mesmerized as he watches as his boyfriend’s eyes seem to darken. 

Wille gulps, that feeling of tingling warmth and want flying through his body right to where he had been so close before they had been interrupted. In reality, it was only him who hadn’t finished what they’d started, Simon had gotten his release. The fact that this was true but Simon was still referring to it as both of them not getting to finish because Wille hadn’t, makes his heart squeeze with how equal and important Simon makes him feel. 

“Can we?” He says, voice catching in his throat.

Simon nods and says “I want to make you feel good too,” dropping his hands from Wille’s hips.  He intertwines his right and Wille’s left hand together, and uses his free hand to hold Wille’s cheek and presses another kiss to his lips, this one slightly more heated than the previous. 

Simon’s phone rings as a FaceTime call comes in and they break apart the kiss too soon. “You have got to be kidding me,” Simon groans, heading over to go shut it off. 

“Hey!” He banters at Simon, “See! You didn’t shut off your phone either!”

“Yeah, but my phone isn’t the one that tried to cockblock us,” he replies with a cheeky grin. 

“This is the very definition of cockblocking,” Wille argues back, heading over toward where Simon is picking up his phone. 

“Well at least it didn’t happen when someone’s leg is actually on your cock like you did to me.” 

Wille flushes and Simon grins. Assuming Simon’s going to shut off his phone, he steps into Simon’s space and leans in to kiss the grin off his face. 

Simon ducks out of the way and answers the FaceTime just as Wille is barely an inch away from his lips, and smiles victoriously at Wille, who sighs in annoyance. 

As soon as Simon connects the call the two boys hear excited yelling and chaos. Wille walks to stand behind Simon to see what’s happening, and Simon angles the phone so they can both see. Rosh, Ayub, Sara, and Felice are all screaming incoherently over FaceTime, and Wille is too busy being confused at how Felice is there with Simon’s friends and sister to figure out what they’re saying. 

“Okay everyone shush real quick!” Felice shouts excitedly. “You guys?! What?! This is so exciting!”

“How are you with them?” Wille asks, confused.

“Felice saw your coming out on the news first and ran to find me because she knows Simon’s my brother!”

“And then Sara was like ‘we need to go find Ayub now!’” Felice adds.

“And then the two of them, like, busted into my room and woke me up. I thought someone died!” Says Ayub.

“And then Ayub called me and I got to his dorm as fast as I could!” Rosh finishes. It’s so hard to keep up with all four of them talking over each other almost all at the same time, but he gets the general picture.

“Congratulations you guys!”

“Congrats!”

“Yeah congrats man!”

“So proud!”

There are so many shouts and hollers from over the phone that Simon and Wille both cringe and laugh at the mixture of static noise happening with all the combined audio. 

“When did you even decide to do this! Wille, you didn’t tell me!” Felice squeaks, clearly not upset, just excited.

“Is this what happened after I left your dorm?” Rosh asks.

“I, uh… yeah,” Simon answers, and their friends all cheer and holler again. Wille feels himself flushing. 

“Can we come say congrats? Where are you guys?” Sara asks. 

Simon and Wille lock eyes, clearly both thinking of what they were about to start before they were interrupted once again, this time by their friends.

“Uhh, it’s getting kinda late Sara,” Simon answers, “do you want to come over tomorrow instead?”

Wille sneaks a glance at Simon and tries to keep himself from turning pink, simply nodding at Simon’s suggestion. 

“Oh my god look at them!” Ayub whistles, “they were totally about to-”

Sara smacks Ayub and effectively shuts him up before he can finish his sentence. “Nope, nope, nope. Don’t say that,” she says, shaking her head. 

Rosh and Felice look at Sara, then at the screen, obviously seeing how embarrassed all of them are, before looking at each other and bursting out laughing. 

“Alright, alright, we’ll let you get to it,” Rosh grins with a raised eyebrow to which Simon replies “bye, I hate you,” before hanging up the call. 

Simon looks up at him, and their eyes lock for a moment before they both burst out laughing. “Oh my god,” he says, grabbing Simon’s hand and tugging him hastily toward the bedroom, “let’s please before anything else happens!”

Simon lets Wille drag him along, laughing behind him. He drags him through the door, only letting go of him to shut it. At the way the door slams shut loudly, Simon snorts and says “someone’s eager.”

In response, he mutters a “shut up,” before shoving Simon roughly against said door and kissing him eagerly. Perhaps Simon does have a point after all. Simon laughs into their kiss and Wille presses him harder against the door. 

“It’s understandable,” Simon gasps as Wille starts working on planting open mouthed kisses to his neck, “How could you not be eager when I’m so good in bed?”

Wille stops the trail of heated kisses he’s been painting Simon’s neck with, and simply looks up at Simon instead in order to tease him back and disagree. But how can he? Simon is so good in bed. He isn’t sure how to deny it so he simply shakes his head at him. 

“Wow,” Simon responds, moving a hand from Wille’s shoulder to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, before letting it rest in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re not even going to try to make fun of me for saying that? Disappointing,” Simon jokes. 

Wille shrugs, “it’s true,” he says, reaching for the hem of Simon’s, or technically his, sweatshirt. He tugs it upward, and Simon puts his arms up, making it easier for Wille to take it off. The second it’s off, he can’t keep his eyes away from the toned muscles of Simon’s arms and abdomen, nor can he keep his hands from immediately exploring the warm, smoothe, expanse of his golden skin. He kisses him again and Simon sighs contently. 

When they break apart, Simon looks down at where Wille’s hands are still tracing the entirety of his chest, and it looks like he’s thinking something. “What?” He asks, and Simon smiles softly.

“Do you remember the second time we saw each other? And you were staring at my chest like you are now?”

“I was not staring!”

“You so were.”

“Fine, maybe I was, so what?” Wille asks, feeling the warmth in his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you were wearing a lace shirt. ”

“Oh you liked that shirt, did you?”

“No,”

“Mhm… sure you didn’t,” Simon smiles, tugging the back of his hair gently as he kisses Wille again. He covers Wille’s hand on his chest and looks back up at him. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were staring at me?”

Not wanting to admit he most definitely was thinking of how his hands would feel against Simon’s chest when he was staring at his shirt in the bar that day, he diverts the subject slightly. “You mean right before you said to me ‘my eyes are up here.’”

“Yeah, that’s the moment.” Simon smiles mischievously, “you were so embarrassed.”

“I was not!”

“You were blushing so hard. It was adorable,” Simon continues, reaching to pinch at Wille’s cheeks. “You’re also blushing now.”

Wille groans and forces himself to look away from Simon’s eyes, absolutely glimmering with trouble. “I bet I can make you blush some more,” Simon grins, and Wille responds, “I’m not sure that’s a bet I should take.”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Simon says. “What if I told you the reason I said that was because I actually couldn’t stand you looking at my body like that, knowing I couldn’t have you .”

Simon was right, he is most definitely blushing harder. He leans in to kiss him so that Simon can’t see he’s succeeded, and whispers against his lips, “well you can have me now.”

Simon groans and slides his hand down Wille’s pants in response, grabbing at him over his boxers. He presses his hips into Simon’s hand, desperate to chase the feeling and lets Simon walk him backward to the bed. When his thighs reach the mattress, Simon pushes him down onto it and climbs on top of him. He connects their lips and gently pushes Wille backward until his head is laying against the pillows. He traces his jaw with his lips, not even kissing him, which makes Wille squirm at the way Simon’s hot breath feels along his jaw and neck, eventually reaching his ear.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Simon whispers hotly, and sits up to tug off Wille’s shirt. He slides off Wille’s pants and boxers too, pressing a kiss to his lower stomach which sends a shiver through him. He watches as Simon’s eyes hungrily trace the entirety of his body, and it feels like he’s burning everywhere his eyes travel. Simon traces his fingers from his collarbone, down his arms, and then rests them on his thighs. “Wille, you’re so-” he presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh- “enchanting.”

Simon’s words make his stomach flutter, and as he presses more heated kisses to the inside of his thigh, he can’t take it anymore. “Simon- please- need you to- please.” He’s not even quite sure what he’s begging for.

He watches as Simon, clearly satisfied with the state he’s put Wille in, licks over his slit. He obviously notices the way it makes him shudder, because he repeats the action, making him groan and drop his head into the pillows. Simon continues taking him apart in a way that has him gasping for air and tugging on the sheets. He does everything he can to hold his composure, but from Simon’s movements, and the way he’s so intently watching all his reactions, he whines into the room. “Simon, so good, please, I want-”

Simon stops his rhythm then, and pulls off of him, looking at Wille with devastating red lips and messy hair from the way Wille’s hands have been in it. He groans and pushes his hips up, and Simon pushes him back down. “What do you want?” Simon asks.

“I don’t know,” he replies, never having been good at asking for what it is that he wants. It’s never really mattered to most people anyway.

“Wille, what do you want?” Simon repeats, slower and more emphasized.

And the truth is, he knows exactly what he wants, but he’s too nervous to ask. He wants Simon, wants to feel all of him. But he doesn’t know how to ask for the two of them to do this. There’s definitely no indirect way to do so, and he doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He feels so silly because it’s not like he’s never gone all the way with someone before. But he has never done it with Simon, and everything feels different with Simon. 

“Wilhelm,” Simon says his full name, commanding his attention and pulling him out of his thoughts. “You know if you tell me I’ll do it, right?”

And god, he definitely wants to do this with Simon. “I want…” he takes a breath to steady his nerves, and then says more confidently than he was expecting. “I want to have sex with you. All the way, Simon. But only if you want to as well.”

Simon looks a little stunned, and he internally starts to panic, all the confidence he’d somehow found starting to leave him. “If not, that’s okay, we don’t have to-”

Simon’s laying his entire body weight on top of him, kissing him into the pillows so ardently, before rolling off of him to lay beside him. “Yes. Fuck. I really want to,” Simon replies.

“Are you sure?”

“If you’re sure then I’m really fucking sure.” 

“Yeah?” Wille asks, unable to keep his excited smile off his face, which Simon instantly mirrors with a sparking one of his own.

“Yeah,” Simon breathes. “I just knew that I’ve done this before with other guys, and I know that you haven’t, so I figured it was only fair for me to wait until you were ready on your own.”

God he really fucking loves this boy. “I’m definitely ready, can we, please, ” he pleads, now that his nerves have left him he’s once again too aware of how turned on he is. 

Simon nods and turns onto his back, pressing his lower body up with his legs so he can slide off his pants. Wille takes over, repeating the action with his underwear, Simon’s breath faltering as he does so. 

“Do you have, um,” Simon seems flustered all of a sudden, and butterflies flap around his stomach and chest at getting to see him like this. At being the one to make him like this. He nods, knowing what Simon means, and climbs off the bed to open his nightstand drawer for what they need. The whole time he feels Simon watching him, and the notion makes him struggle to open the packet. Simon scoots to the edge of the bed and snatches it from his hands, ripping it open with ease. 

He rolls his eyes at Simon and lays back on the bed next to him, allowing Simon to gently roll the condom onto him. He presses his lips to Simon’s and relishes in the needy noises Simon makes into the kiss as his fingers trace over the curve of his ass and stop near his rim. 

He breaks away for a moment to squeeze the contents of the bottle into his fingers and pushes just the tip of his finger slowly inside. He looks at Simon’s face, eyes now closed. He experimentally works his finger into Simon, eliciting soft, stuttering breaths, and quiet moans. 

After a little, Wille slides his finger in a bit more then stops, not wanting to hurt him. Simon opens his eyes and props himself up on his elbows to look at Wille and nods reassuringly at him. “You can add another,” Simon smiles encouragingly at Wille, looking radiant. 

So he does, and begins to learn what movements from his fingers elicit which gasps and whimpers, before adding a third. He eventually finds the place that makes Simon lose it, and repeats this angle until Simon repeatedly lets out broken noises, gasping and arching his hips into his hand. 

“Please, I’m ready, please Wille-uh!” He whines into the room, barely audible. As he slides his fingers out, he watches every one of Simon’s reactions. He’s seen Simon in so many different ways. Good ones, and bad ones, but throughout every single moment, Simon is always devastatingly, and impossibly beautiful. He has never seen Simon in this way though, and it’s like there’s an angel laid out on the bed in front of him, for him. 

He’s clearly been staring at Simon for more than a brief moment, because Simon opens his eyes and asks “Wille? Are you okay?”

He nods and kisses Simon’s jaw, nose, then lips gently, content at how Simon smiles pleasantly at this action. “Yeah,” he laughs, “I think I got distracted by how pretty you are.”

“Welcome to my world,” Simon huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically, “I literally can’t get a damn thing done ever because I’m always thinking about how pretty you are.”

“We’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, we are,” Simon agrees. Wille leans down for another kiss, and Simon presses himself up off the mattress to meet him halfway. “Now can the stupid boy please continue? I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on and I might actually die if you don’t do something soon.”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“Well maybe if I’m dramatic you’ll get inside of me!”

At Simon’s directness, Wille gasps and immediately obliges his request, moving to line himself up with Simon’s entrance. Their eyes lock in an intensity he has never experienced, and he gently pushes into Simon, feeling utterly and wholly lost in the way they fit together so perfectly. Simon’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

There are no words to describe the way it feels being so intimately close to the boy he loves with all his heart. No poems, no words, ones that have been invented, or ever will be invented, could ever be enough to capture this. 

“You okay?” He asks, and Simon shakily nods. 

“So okay,” Simon replies, “just please move.”

His pace is slow, not wanting to hurt Simon, but also wanting to savor every reaction that his movements elicit from the boy for as long as possible. Every moan, every whimper, every time he grabs at the sheets or whispers Wille’s name. 

* * *

In the morning, Wille wakes up to golden light from the sun peeking in through the curtains, and to the sound of Simon’s stomach growling loudly. Every time he has ever woken up next to Simon, he’s always draped nearly entirely on top of Wille, and he smiles at how this morning is no exception. Despite the noise from Simon, he seems to be still asleep, so Wille brushes his fingers across his forehead gently and then through his hair. 

Simon opens one eye and groans at the light, before shutting it again and rolling onto his stomach to shove his face into the pillow. 

“Hi,” Wille says into the soft morning light of the room. 

“Hi,” he thinks he hears a muffled voice respond from somewhere deep inside a pillow.

“You are really not a morning person.”

“Only weird people are morning people,” Simon replies, shifting onto his side to face him.

“I’m a morning person,” he pouts.

“Well there you go. Case and point.”

“Rude.”

Simon smiles sweetly, “I love youuuu.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too… you’re sticky.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Simon laughs with his rough morning voice.

“Yours,” he answers, “it’s your mess.”

“Okay and who caused that mess?”

“No clue.”

“Right.”

He pushes his body against Simon’s despite them both needing a shower and kisses him softly. 

“Your breath is disgusting,” Simon giggles as he covers Wille’s mouth with his hand.

“Oh, is it?” He asks, wrestling Simon’s arms down, trying to kiss him again despite Simon’s half-hearted struggles to break free. Simon’s stomach growls loudly again, making them both giggle and pause their little wrestling match. “Do you want something to eat?” 

Simon bites Wille’s shoulder and says, “I could eat.” Wille rolls his eyes fondly and kisses his ridiculous boyfriend again. “See?” Simon says, “you taste so good.”

“Didn’t you just say two seconds ago that my breath was disgusting?”

“Can’t a boy change his mind?” Simon sighs, kissing him again and letting his fingers dance along Wille’s collarbone, almost as if he’s playing the piano. Wille feels a trickle of heat flow down his body, but Simon’s stomach growls for the third time, and he sits up before Simon can say anything else that will surely prevent him from leaving this bed. 

The room seems to get a little darker and Wille gets up, grabs a pair of sweatpants that he puts on, and pushes aside the curtain to see it’s started to rain. “Go shower and I’ll make us some breakfast.”

“Bossy,” Simon says, but he complies anyway.

* * *

He’s just finished making their french toast as Simon arrives in the kitchen, dressed as usual in one of Wille’s sweatshirts, with damp curls framing his face. The thought that this could always be his life makes him feel warm to the tips of his toes. A life where they cook breakfast for each other, wake up next to each other, start their days together, end their days together, it’s everything he could ever want. They finish their breakfast after a little while, teasing each other as usual back and forth over nothing at all, before heading to the couch. After how hectic the past twenty-four hours have been, it’s so incredibly nice to simply do nothing at all together. He listens to the sound of the rain softly pattering against the windows as Simon curls up closer to him, laying his head and as much of his body as he can fit in Wille’s lap. 

“Who knew my boyfriend was just like a cat,” he quips, gently playing with Simon’s curls. Simon just shrugs the shoulder that he’s not laying on, and Wille can barely see the hint of his smile from the way Simon’s facing away from him. Simon mindlessly runs his finger along Wille’s sweatpants and they both bask in finally having a rare moment of pure silence and serenity. 

His whole life he’s never been able to choose what he’s wanted. And truth be told, even if he were allowed to choose, it wouldn’t have mattered because he’d never really known what he’d wanted anyway. But now he does. He knows so surely and so deeply that everything he wants and everything he could possibly need is here, physically laying in his lap. Could the universe make it any more obvious? 

He holds the boy he loves in his arms even tighter, and Simon melts into him, whispering “I love you,” for no reason at all except to say it. Throughout Wille’s whole life he hasn’t really been sure if he believes in a heaven or in a god, but it doesn’t matter anymore, because he is sure that he’s existing in a heaven on earth. 

“I’m yours Simon. Forever,” he says, not even thinking about it before he does so, because he doesn’t need to. He knows nothing has ever been more true. It feels insane to have finally admitted that out loud. Something he’s only ever thought over and over again every waking moment but never said. Something so grand yet so private, so intimate. But at the same time, it doesn’t feel outlandish at all to admit. It feels right. It feels obvious. 

“Forever,” Simon says, turning to look up at him so softly, a smile playing on his lips. “That’s a really long time.”

“It is,” he replies, leaning in to press a kiss to Simon’s ever brightening grin. And it is. Forever is a really long time, but it feels inevitable, the two of them together. Because Wilhelm and Simon are forever. Wilhelm and Simon are infinite.